In Too Deep
by Winter Solstice1
Summary: COMPLETE Severus must return Hermione safely to the wizarding world so that she can undertake a dangerous mission to save Harry.
1. Default Chapter

A/N: Nothing that you recognise is mine! All hail the goddess JKR! Seriously, I am making no money from this or any of my other stories (shame, because I'm poor), and am only having fun with characters that do not belong to me in any way, shape or form!  
  
By the way, if you like this, please review!  
  
***  
  
Hermione Granger was tired as she made her way along the poorly lit country lane towards home. Her temples were tight with the beginnings of a headache and her feet were sore and aching inside her low heeled shoes. She walked slowly even though the winter night was bitterly cold, too tired to find the strength to walk faster. It was several minutes before she found herself standing in front of a small whitewashed door adorned with a bright wreath of holly and berries. She searched through her pockets with half closed eyes until her fingers curled around a set of keys, and then she was letting herself into the cottage with a relieved sigh.  
  
Pushing the door closed behind her she stood absolutely still in the darkened hallway for a moment, listening. The cottage was silent, as it should be, and she felt momentarily silly for her anxiousness. Hermione lived alone. It was easier that way. She reached to her right and flipped a switch, filling the small hallway with soft light as she slipped her shoes off and rubbed the arch of her right foot against the calf of her left leg. After rubbing her eyes, she shrugged her overcoat off slim shoulders and hung it neatly on the coat stand where it belonged.  
  
The polished wooden floor was warm beneath her feet as she padded to the end of the hallway and through another door into her sitting room. The room was lit only by moonlight that spilled in through the windows, and then by nothing at all as she pulled the heavy curtains closed, shutting the world out with a determined flick of her wrists. Sinking into her squashy beige sofa she reached over and switched on a table lamp where it sat on a low coffee table before leaning back again and hooking one foot over her knee to give it a little squeeze.  
  
"Ouch!" The sound of her own voice in the quiet house bothered her very little, but she had never made a habit of speaking to herself, fearing that that might lead her down the road to life as a spinster a little too soon. Hermione was only twenty five, and yet she had lived alone in her little cottage for nearly seven years, since a few months after her eighteenth birthday and . . . her cinnamon brown eyes darkened a few shades as she remembered. So much had happened that year, she thought wistfully. So many awful things. The events themselves had become blurry around the edges as the years had passed, but her memories of them were bright and sharp, causing her unexpected pain. She closed her eyes, trying not to think of what she had lost, of what she could never hope to regain. It seemed to Hermione then that all of the decisions she had made since that time had caused her more pain, yet she did not consider herself wrong. Her life now was very different from how it had been, and how it might still have been had she not chosen to deliberately turn her back on it. She lived in the regular world as one of the regular people; she had a house and a job and money in the bank. She kept herself busy with work, with her books and studies and she tried to convince herself that that was enough. It should have been for her as it would be for any other person, but somewhere deep down she knew that it never could be. She had always been different, and her years away from the normal world had only emphasised those differences. Returning to it had left her cold, and emptier inside than she cared to admit, but she also knew that there could never be a return to the world she had left behind.  
  
Tears prickled her eyes as she remembered her teenage years, and she was consumed with a bittersweet longing for a return to them, wincing at the conflicting emotions the impulse generated. She was happy with her life as it was now, she decided stubbornly, and only a fool wishes for what might have been.  
  
But wish for it she did.  
  
Catching her tears with trembling fingers she drew several deep breaths in an effort to compose herself, knowing why it was that she was feeling this way. Christmas was drawing near, and the season of goodwill always left her feeling as though she was standing on the outside of an amazing event looking in. She had few friends, nobody with which she wanted to spend great amounts of time, and her self imposed loneliness suited her for the most part. It was only when she came home to an empty house and empty memories that she felt truly lonely.  
  
Shaking her head she climbed unsteadily to her feet and pushed the feelings away with an insistent shove. She was no stranger to any of it, but knew that she was too tired and vulnerable to cope with feeling so low, and that there was no way of changing any of the decisions she had made in the past anyway.  
  
In the galley kitchen she found half a bottle of wine in the fridge and a clean wineglass on the draining board where she had left it the previous evening. Picking up both, she cradled them like she would a child and carried them back into the sitting room. After programming the stereo to play some suitably cheery Christmas music she poured herself a large glass of wine, selected 'Pride and Prejudice' from her bookshelf and settled into the sofa for yet another quiet evening in.  
  
She hadn't managed to read more than the first few chapters of the book when she was lulled into a tired sleep by the warmth of the room and wine. The book slipped from her fingers but she didn't hear it as it hit the ground with an audible thud. Her head fell back onto the sofa, shiny curls falling around her face, and her body relaxed into the softness of its surroundings. The CD finished and the stereo switched itself off with a gentle click, filling the room with a hushed silence broken only by the ticking of the clock above the mantelpiece.  
  
Hermione slept and dreamed, a faint smile lifting the corners of her mouth. She dreamed of a school where winged boars guarded the gates, where the great hall was enchanted to look like the sky outside, and of a boy with green eyes and a lightning shaped scar on his forehead . . .  
  
By the time her sleep was broken by a sudden and loud thudding on her door it was nearly midnight and Hermione had been sleeping for nearly three hours. The noise awoke her instantly, and she was on her feet before consciousness had a chance to kick in properly. The knock came again, insistent and not to be denied, and her eyes widened in sudden fear. She had no idea who would be calling at this time of night, in the dead of winter, and she was frightened, but not frightened enough to simply do nothing and wait for the knocking to stop, and her unexpected visitor to leave. Instead, she made her way cautiously to the front door and waited silently behind it until the knock came again, as she was sure it would. Her instincts warned her of danger, but Hermione was no stranger to that. She waited bravely, balanced on the balls of her feet.  
  
The knock came again, this time accompanied by a voice which, muffled by the heavy door, she did not recognise.  
  
"Miss Granger? I understand that you may be frightened but there is no need. Please open the door, I know that you are in there."  
  
Whoever it was waiting for her, they knew at least who she was. Fear subsiding, Hermione took a deep breath and opened the door open in a fluid motion.  
  
Lit only by the weak light from the hallway, the man on her doorstep was instantly recognisable. Clad in darkest black from head to toe, he was tall but slight, even clad in heavy winter clothing his silhouette was lean. Hermione lifted astonished eyes to a narrow face, to black eyes and dark eyebrows lowered further by an angry scowl which creased his face into a series of deep lines. This was the very last person she would ever have expected to find knocking on her door, and judging by the expression on his face, this was the very last place he ever expected to find himself. She shifted sideways so that more of the light would fall onto him, and he squinted at her warily.  
  
"Hermione Granger?" He spoke her name in a husky baritone that made the tiny hairs on the back of her neck rise, and she shivered, and then nodded. He took a closer look at her, and appeared satisfied that that was indeed who she was. Hermione found her voice at last.  
  
"Professor Snape?" She asked timidly.  
  
Severus Snape's face settled into the grim expression she last saw seven years ago. It appeared that he had not changed one bit. He frowned at her bemused face.  
  
"Miss Granger," he said shortly. She blinked. "May I come in?"  
  
Hermione froze, suddenly aware of what his request meant. If she let him into her house, she was letting the magical world back into her life even after forsaking it so long ago, but if she slammed the door in his face . . . the consequences of that were not worth thinking about. The only one who had known where she could be found, her secret keeper no less, and the one who had promised her that he would never send anyone to find her here, was Albus Dumbledore. If he had sent Snape to her, it had to be for a very good reason.  
  
But did she really want to know what that reason was?  
  
Snape was watching her impatiently from the doorstep. He knew the rules as well as she did. If she didn't invite him over the threshold of her home, he couldn't touch her. He had Dumbledore to thank for that, and the powerful warding spells he had placed on the cottage to guarantee her safety.  
  
Hermione was torn. She looked up into the wizard's eyes and bit her lip. He nodded his head once, jerkily. She waited. He rolled his eyes, and finally said the word she was waiting for.  
  
"Please?"  
  
She let herself breathe again, exhaling all of her oxygen in one shaky breath before stepping off to one side so that he could sweep past her into the hallway, which suddenly seemed much smaller than it ever had done before. He loomed over her, waiting for her to show him into the house, and suddenly Hermione couldn't breathe at all. The room was spinning and she couldn't focus properly, couldn't even stay on her feet. She was dimly aware of the expression on Snape's face shifting from annoyance to concern, and he reached out one arm to catch her as the world began to spin away and then consciousness was abandoning her completely. As she fainted, her very last thought asked her a very important question.  
  
What the hell was going on?  
  
TBC . . . 


	2. Chapter 2

Hermione awoke several minutes later, finding herself lying on her back, not in the hall where she had fainted, but on the floor in her sitting room. She stirred groggily, opening her disbelieving eyes slowly and discovering that her head was resting upon a pair of knees. She gave a little groan and dark eyes stared down impassively into her own. Judging by the look on his face, Severus Snape was not amused. She struggled a little and was immediately held still by hands resting firmly on her shoulders, warm through the thin fabric of her shirt.  
  
"Remain where you are, Miss Granger," he muttered warningly. "I would prefer it if you did not faint again."  
  
"How did I get here? I fainted . . . in the hall," she whispered.  
  
"I carried you." He gave a little snort of derision, and Hermione felt her face grow hot. The thought of Severus Snape carrying her unconscious form anywhere was more humiliating than fainting in the first place.  
  
"What's going on?" She closed her eyes briefly, finally satisfied that the world was not about to start spinning again. Snape gave her a little nudge and helped her slowly to her feet, dropping her hands as soon as he was satisfied that she wouldn't fall over again. They regarded each other warily, and then Hermione dropped weakly onto the sofa and invited him to do the same: "Please, sit."  
  
He sat on the edge of the sofa, leaning forward and clasping his hands loosely between his knees. He looked distinctly uncomfortable, and Hermione wondered why.  
  
The silence between them deepened, and Hermione used the time to look cautiously over her old potions professor. He had removed his coat at some point, presumably while she was unconscious, and was now wearing a simple pair of black trousers and a heavy black sweater. Muggle clothes, she thought. Odd. They suited him even though he was obviously uncomfortable wearing them. He looked tired as well, there were dark shadows under his eyes and his mouth was bracketed either side by deep lines. As she looked at him, his lips thinned a little in obvious annoyance.  
  
"Dumbledore sent me." He said, at length. Hermione's eyes widened. "He wishes to see you . . ."  
  
"No." She shook her head emphatically, fear washing over her not the first time that evening.  
  
". . . immediately." Snape finished heavily. He looked wearily at her grim face.  
  
"No." She repeated. He frowned.  
  
"This was not a request, Miss Granger," he said softly. His voice was dangerous, and in another time and place she would have known not to contradict him. The difference was, he was no longer a figure of authority for her and she was no longer afraid of him.  
  
"Hermione." He was looking at her again, and she could not read what it was she saw in his eyes. The sound of his voice speaking her name reverberated around the room, brushing against her like a lover's caress when it was designed to be a warning. She sighed. His proximity to her made her uncomfortable, even though she was determined not to show it.  
  
"Dumbledore knows better than to ask this of me," she whispered. Snape gave a low, hoarse laugh.  
  
"Times have changed," he said. "And you of all people should know that nothing ever stays the same."  
  
"But why did he send you? Why did he not come to me himself?"  
  
There was a pause, during which he stared off into the distance, silently debating whether or not to tell her. He swung his head back abruptly.  
  
"I forget that you would not be aware of what has happened since you left our world," he muttered. Hermione nodded slowly, pursing her lips. "Dumbledore likes to see me made useful. He considered that I was the best person for the job, so to speak."  
  
"But what of your involvement with the . . . with . . ." She hesitated and his eyes glittered strangely.  
  
"I am no longer a spy, if that is what you mean." A dull flush was creeping up his pale cheeks.  
  
"Why?"  
  
"Why do you think?" He was clearly angered by her questions, and struggled to control himself. "I was discovered, Miss Granger! I barely escaped with my life!" Shoving back the left sleeve of his sweater to the elbow he showed her the inside of his forearm. Where his Dark Mark had once been there was instead an ugly, puckered scar that ran fully from his wrist to the crook of his elbow. His arm trembled as he held it out to her, and Hermione was surprised at the sudden rush of emotion that accompanied the sight. Tears sprang to her eyes and she unthinkingly reached out to touch him. Her fingers curled around his arm and she touched the scar gently, rubbing her thumb across his wrist. Snape's breath hissed between his teeth but he made no effort to pull his arm away, instead waiting until she released him, lifting shocked eyes that were bright with tears to his.  
  
"I am so sorry," she told him. "How did they . . . remove it?" She swallowed, intelligent enough to realise that his scar had not been made by any magic she had ever encountered. He shook his head, as if reading her thoughts.  
  
"They burned it away," he said hoarsely. "Not that they intended for me to live much longer after that. But I did."  
  
Hermione could no longer prevent her tears from falling. His unexpected appearance and revelations had shocked her fragile state beyond words. The sorrow she felt was fixed almost entirely on him, and even though she knew that crying would not change a thing, she could not stop.  
  
Snape was looking at her, his face a curious mixture of pity and defiance.  
  
"Do not cry for me, Hermione," he said warningly. "I do not want your tears on my conscience."  
  
Her tears fell unheeding, and he made a small noise of concern, shifting a little closer to her on the sofa, searching in his pockets and producing a white handkerchief that was in stark contrast to the rest of his clothing.  
  
"Take this." He offered quietly, pressing it into her hand. His gesture did not help, instead the gentle generosity only made her cry harder. Snape's sigh echoed dimly in her ears and he closed the gap between them without further hesitation, folding her into his arms and tucking her head beneath his chin. One arm encircled her waist, the other her shoulders, and both were warm and real. He comforted her with small touches and soft words, smoothing the unruly curls of her hair and hushing her gently until her tears had ceased.  
  
Somewhere closer to the centre of the village, a clock struck twelve, and Hermione felt him pull away, dropping his arms to his sides, looking at her closely.  
  
"I'm sorry," she whispered, hanging her head so that her curls might obscure her face. "This is too much."  
  
"I should not have told you what they did to me," he apologised tonelessly.  
  
"I am glad that you did."  
  
"Then you will return to Hogwarts with me? Now?"  
  
She finally raised her head to look at him with sad eyes. His expression was intense, hopeful.  
  
"I cannot."  
  
He frowned.  
  
"Cannot or will not?"  
  
"Cannot."  
  
"Not now or not ever?"  
  
"Not ever." There was something very ominous in his eyes, and Hermione resisted the sudden urge to flinch. Her stubbornness was borne of desperation, for she knew that should she leave this life and return to Hogwarts she would never want to leave the castle again.  
  
"Is this your final word on this subject?" He got to his feet in one smooth motion, and she looked up at him with vulnerable eyes. Opening her mouth to speak, no words would come, and so she nodded. His eyes slid away from hers.  
  
"So be it," he murmured, almost to himself. "I will tell Dumbledore your answer. Do not expect him to be happy. You will be seeing me again."  
  
"I'm sorry, Professor. You know why it has to be this way." Hermione got to her feet, very close to where he stood. He leaned down to her so that they were almost nose to nose. His breath was warm on her face, the irises of his eyes were indistinguishable from the pupils.  
  
"Severus," he breathed. "You may call me Severus. And no, I do not know why it has to be this way. But no matter. Goodbye, Hermione."  
  
Straightening up, he placed a thoroughly unexpected kiss on her forehead, and before she had a chance to reply, swept from the room.  
  
By the time she had gathered herself enough to follow him into the hallway, he had already disappeared, and Hermione gave herself a mental shrug, determined to dismiss the night's strange events from her thoughts.  
  
Life goes on, she thought.  
  
Life goes on.  
  
His handkerchief was still grasped in her hand.  
  
It was to be Christmas Eve before she saw Severus Snape again.  
  
TBC . . . 


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: Hey, guess what? I *still* don't actually own any of this except the plot. Shame. Please forgive the creative license where the magical item is concerned, I don't know if it's been mentioned before, and so I'm just guessing.  
  
Thanks to everyone who has reviewed so far.  
  
***  
  
Two uneventful weeks passed, during which Hermione did her level best to forget what had gone on that evening. She kept herself deliberately busy, work was busy in any event with Christmas approaching and most evenings when she arrived home the only thing she was fit for was her bed and sleep. Her life began to slowly slip back into a semblance of what it had been before, and uneasy contentment settled around her like the snow that was blanketing the village on the morning of Christmas Eve.  
  
Hermione was awake early, slipping from her bed and into a hot shower without opening the curtains and looking outside, so when she opened her front door just before eight o'clock in the morning she was surprised to see that the world had turned white overnight. The sky above her head was indigo blue, stars beginning to fade with the onset of the dawn, and the snow was as crisp beneath her booted feet as the morning air that she breathed.  
  
It was only a short walk of fifteen minutes to the small tea shop where she worked, and Hermione was grateful for the warm interior of the kitchen as she let herself in through the back door. Everything was familiar to her here, she had been working in the same place since her move to the village all those years ago, and the environment was pleasant and easy. Waitressing was not a job which represented a huge challenge to her, but she loved it nonetheless, and it left her plenty of time to work on her correspondence degree in the evenings and at weekends. Many of her customers knew her by name, and she them, and she enjoyed the hustle and bustle when the small shop was full of happy people. As a waitress she was nothing special, and she possessed no exemplary talent, she could simply be 'Hermione'. It was an arrangement which suited her down to the ground, and she was in no hurry to change it.  
  
She was kept busy all day by a steady stream of people who, having completed their Christmas shopping stopped by for a warming pot of tea or cup of coffee, but by four o'clock the village street outside was emptying of people and soon the shop would be closing until new year. Oddly, Hermione found herself dreading the week away from work, as she knew a week alone with her thoughts and memories would drive her to distraction. Christmas was a lonely time of year for her, and it had been ever since her time at Hogwarts had ended. She marked it in her own way, but found herself unable to feel the joy others seemed to experience, and unable to join in with the spirit of Christmas. Christmas day was a day to sleep away, waking in the evening to a small pile of presents and a glass of wine if she felt like it. There was no extravagant meal, no getting up at dawn because she could not sleep with the excitement for Hermione. If she was honest with herself, she would be glad when Christmas was over and the new year could begin.  
  
She was alone in the shop and had her back to the door when she heard it swing open and thud shut behind what would probably be her last customer of the day.  
  
"I'll be with you in just one minute," she called distractedly, and made a quick effort to tuck the curls of hair that had escaped from her bun behind her ears and straighten her white shirt and black skirt. Turning around, her eyes searched the nearby tables, finally alighting upon the figure of a man sitting at the table furthest away from the door. Her breath caught in her throat and she approached the table cautiously, her eyes never leaving Severus Snape's face.  
  
When she was standing in front of him, he looked up at her with mocking eyes.  
  
"I did warn you that you would be seeing me again," he said, and if Hermione didn't know better, it was almost playful.  
  
"What are you doing here?" She looked around anxiously. "You can't be here, professor!"  
  
His mouth was a hard, straight line, all playfulness gone.  
  
"Listen to me," he said in a low voice. "You are in great danger if you remain here."  
  
"What?" She stared at him, horrified, her eyes wide and disbelieving. "That's impossible! Nobody knows that I'm here!"  
  
He rose to his feet, one hand reaching out to grasp her wrist firmly. She did not resist.  
  
"I must take you back to the cottage. Now. Please believe me, Hermione, staying here is not a risk that you are prepared to take. I cannot protect you while you remain in this place!"  
  
His eyes bored into hers, leaving her in no doubt that he was speaking the truth. Freeing her wrist, she took two steps back from him, looking over her shoulder to the street outside. Nothing moved. Everything without had turned unnaturally still. Hermione made her decision.  
  
"I must tell Mary that I have to leave . . . she won't mind . . . please stay here, she's in the kitchen."  
  
Her farewells to her friend and boss were rushed, leaning the older woman visibly confused, but there was nothing that could be done. If Snape had demanded that they leave, it was time to leave. Pulling on her coat she swept back into the shop and found him waiting to leave. Opening the door, he ushered her out onto the snowy street and after a quick glance up and down it he was walking her in the direction of her cottage.  
  
"Are you going to tell me what is going on?" She asked him in a low voice as they walked. He glanced sideways at her, shaking his head ever so slightly.  
  
"Wait. I will tell you as soon as it is safe."  
  
Hermione could not have predicted what was to happen next. Snape's head moved sharply off to his left, and he made a small noise in the back of his throat, pushing her firmly off to one side and into a dark, narrow alleyway between what were two of the smaller village streets. Strong hands pressed her into the wall where there was no light at all, and then he was pressed right up against her, using his coat to cover them both.  
  
"Be silent!" He hissed into her ear, and Hermione was far too frightened to argue. He looked down at her, his face alive and intense, his body pressed against hers. She was at first uncomfortably aware of the warmth that was being generated where they touched, but as long minutes passed she gradually became grateful for it. The alleyway was dark and cold, and he was warm. Without realizing what it was she was doing, Hermione had lowered her head into his chest and put her arms around him in order to snuggle a little closer. He uttered what sounded like a little moan and held her close, lowering his face to her hair, his hands rubbing her back soothingly. Once or twice she thought she heard footsteps crunching in the snow, but they were always distant, and always growing fainter. She had heard nothing for a long time when Snape finally decided that it was safe to move again.  
  
The remainder of the walk back to the cottage was conducted almost at a run, but no further incidents took place to frighten Hermione further. She was visibly shaken as Snape closed and locked the door behind them, but still found her voice.  
  
"Please tell me what is going on," she pleaded, leaning against the wall. In the dark, she could not see him, but could hear his harsh breathing.  
  
"If I am correct," his voice floated to her from not so far away. "If I am correct, I have just saved both our lives. Now Miss Granger, where is your wand?"  
  
Hermione froze, staring at the place where the voice had spoken from. A minute, and then two ticked past before her eyes adjusted sufficiently for her to be able to make him out. He was looking at her, and waiting patiently.  
  
"I don't have a wand," she said quietly, looking down at her snow encrusted boots. She heard him sigh heavily.  
  
"Do not lie to me. You have more to lose than your pride in this. I will ask you again. Where is your wand?"  
  
"I don't have a . . ."  
  
"Hermione!"  
  
"Upstairs. In . . ." she looked at him, hesitated. "In my bedroom."  
  
Without waiting for a reply, she turned miserably away from him and climbed the narrow, steep stairs that led to the first floor and a tiny hallway. She stopped here, and when Snape was standing behind her the small space seemed very claustrophobic. Ignoring this, and pushing open a pine door to her left, Hermione walked into her bedroom without looking back.  
  
The small room, lit only by moonlight, contained only the things Hermione needed to survive and nothing more. The bed was a double, neatly made and covered by a duvet cover in a white waffled material. The curtains which hung at the low cottage window were in a heavy calico, designed to block out the light when required. Moving to a neat pine bedside table with a lamp sitting upon it, Hermione switched it on. Warm light filled the room. A pine chest of drawers and a tall pine wardrobe were the only other items of furniture in the room, and Hermione now approached the latter. Even on her tiptoes it was obvious that she had no hope of reaching any of the boxes carefully stacked on top of it, and so with an impatient growl he reached up for her. She pointed, almost timidly, to a narrow black box, underneath all of the others. Snape pulled it down and held out to her. They both looked down at the box. It was dusty, with seven years worth of dust to be exact, and battered around the edges. When he ran a finger across the top of the box to remove the dust, the word 'Ollivanders' could just about be made out underneath.  
  
Hermione looked from the box to Snape, and then back to the box again. He stretched it out towards her and she shook her head. Holding her wand again meant something, she sensed. It would take her down a path she had promised herself she would never travel again. It would mean acknowledging once more what she really and truly was, and embracing her lost heritage.  
  
She would not.  
  
"I won't touch it," she whispered harshly.  
  
"Why not?" He asked. She would not look at him.  
  
"Please don't make me." Her voice was small.  
  
She could feel his gaze on the top of her head, heavy and loaded with meaning, but he did not argue with her this time. Instead, pale white hands slid the lid of the box off and discarded it on top of the bed, which Hermione now sat heavily upon.  
  
Her wand sat nestled amongst several folds of velvet, as shiny and well cared for as the day she had first bought it. As she watched, Snape lifted it out with gentle reverence and cradled it in his palms.  
  
"Eleven inches," he muttered, almost to himself. "Rosewood and . . . ?"  
  
Dark eyes met brown ones. Both blinked.  
  
"Unicorn tail hair," she whispered.  
  
"Take it," he insisted. "You might be needing it before the night is out."  
  
"But I won't remember how . . ."  
  
Too late. The wand was pushed into her open hands and Snape carefully closed her fingers over it. Instantly, Hermione felt a rush of warmth and light, identical to her experience the first time she had held it. Tears, a strange mixture of joy and despair, filled her eyes.  
  
"Now," Severus Snape breathed. "Tell me you are not a witch, Hermione."  
  
TBC . . . 


	4. Chapter 4

She looked at him, her eyes wide and vulnerable.  Asking her to deny that now was like asking her to deny that she lived.  It was impossible.  She had tried to fight this for seven years, and now she had failed.  A single tear rolled down her cheek, splashing onto the hand which now held her wand.  Snape's face was not triumphant as she had expected that it would be, instead it was oddly tender, softening the harsh lines which aged him beyond his years.

"I can't," her voice was broken and lost.  He nodded his head in apparent satisfaction.  Suddenly, frighteningly, her temper rose, eating away at her sorrow and replacing it with a flash of white heat.  "Is that what you wanted me to say?" She demanded.  "Are you happy now?"

The hand holding her wand rose threateningly, so it now pointed straight at him.  She was left in no doubt of his reflexes as his own wand was already pointing straight at her.  They stared each other down, the silence only broken by their harsh breathing.

"Do not think to use your magic here," he told her eventually.  "You are already in more danger than you know."  His eyes flicked between her face and her wand, wary and watchful.  She had once been formidable, a match for anyone.  It remained to be seen if she still was, and he was reluctant to test her power.

"I want the truth," she hissed at him.  "And I want it now."

"There is nothing that I can tell you that you do not already know!"  He flushed suddenly, dark hair swinging around his face.  "You must return to Hogwarts, and you must do so tonight!"

"I will not!"  They were shouting at each other out of pure frustration.

"Then they will find you, Hermione.  Even if it means ripping this village apart and killing everybody in it, they will find you!"

"Who will?"  She was astonished.  Snape looked at her, and moved silently over to the window.  Looking out, he beckoned her over, and she went and stood next to him.  Outside in the lane, nothing moved, and she wondered what it was he wanted her to see.

"Look closer," he whispered into her ear, pointing to a bank of snow a little way up the lane.  As Hermione watched, the something detached itself from the drift, and began to move stealthily down the lane.

"An invisibility cloak?" she murmured, horrified that someone in possession of such magic and unknown to her should be so close.

"Not a good one, or else you would not have seen it!  Watch!" Snape hissed.

And before her frightened eyes, the cloak was removed to reveal a sleek white-blond head, followed by a long, lean, whipcord-thin body.  Her breath caught in her throat.

"That's Draco Malfoy!" She squeaked.

"The Dark Lord's favourite boy," he said.

"Oh no."  She knew what was coming next.

"And he's looking for you."

Hermione's knees would have given way had it not been for Snape then.  She leaned weakly against him and his arms encircled her securely, holding her steady.

"The Dark Lord only knows that there is someone magical within the village.  He does not yet know who, or even where they are.  There is no need to be afraid.  You are still protected by the magic.  Malfoy cannot see you."

"But I can see him.  What does he want with me?  What do any of them want with me?"  She turned her face into his robes, squeezing her eyes closed.  The answer sat between them, waiting to be spoken.  Hermione knew why.  She had known why for seven years.

"What did they want with your parents?" He spoke in hushed tones.  "You know what they call you, and you, who are one of the most powerful of our kind.  They have been looking for you since the day you left, and now it would seem that they have found you.  If they cannot use you for their own means, they will try to kill you.  Dumbledore is not ignorant of this development.  He wants you at Hogwarts where you can be properly protected."

There was a short silence while Snape watched Malfoy creep away, back towards the centre of the village.  He breathed a long sigh of relief.

"I don't understand!" She whispered.

"I know," he soothed.  "But you cannot stay here.  It is no longer safe.  The minute they detect the use of magic you will be discovered.  You must come away."

"Merry Christmas, Hermione," she said dully.  To her surprise, he laughed and the rich baritone sound filled the room.  He looked down at her; her face was pale and sober.  

"Apparate with me."  He rich tones of his voice made it sound like a marriage proposal, and she blushed despite herself.  "Please.  And I will promise to keep you safe."

Hermione did not doubt that Severus could keep her safe.  He was, after all, a fearsome wizard and she would trust him with her life if it ever became necessary.  The question was, why would be offer to do such a thing?  As she stood looking at him, she realized that she did not know the man stood before her at all.  She thought that maybe she never had.  The cruel and sarcastic potions master was not standing with her now.  She blinked, and fixed him with a steady gaze.

"Why would you do that?" She asked him.  A hand removed itself from her waist, and slid slowly up her side, along her collarbone and then traced the line of her jaw.  Her breathing hitched, and she was suddenly far too aware of him for comfort. She could feel his heartbeat underneath her hands, it matched her own.  His eyes burned into hers, bright with an emotion she did not recognize.  Nervously, she backed slowly away from him until there was clear space between them.  Snape stood perfectly still and observed her retreat with a roll of his eyes.

"You do not trust me."

It was a statement, not a question, and Hermione acknowledged it as such.

"No."

He coloured as if she had uttered a disgusting swear word, and shook his head.

"No."  His lips pursed.  "And what reason have I given you to do so?  I don't blame you, Hermione."

"But you are angry."  Another statement, this time from her.

"I suggest that you use your formerly admirable sense of logic," he swept it aside contemptuously.  "If I wished to do you harm do you not think that I may have done it already?  Do not presume Dumbledore to be an old fool in revealing your whereabouts to me.  He trusts me, and so should you."

He had crossed the room and grasped her by the upper arms before she had the chance to react, and her wand tumbled from suddenly lifeless fingers.  Giving her a little shake, he looked closely into her eyes.

"I do not want to hurt you!" He exclaimed hotly.  "Believe me."

Hermione looked up at him helplessly, consulting her conscience and her instincts as she did so.  Her reluctance to let him take her anywhere was, oddly, not borne of her mistrust of him.  Her reluctance to return to Hogwarts was inexorably tied to the knowledge that she would never again wish to leave it.

"Can you force me to do this?"  Her voice was low, and tinged with the sad acceptance of her fate.

"I cannot force you to do anything that you do not wish to do."

"If I leave with you now, can I come back?"

He arched an eyebrow at her, silently questioning why she would want to do so.  She continued to look at him steadily until he made an exasperated noise and then abruptly shook his head.

"I don't think that that will be possible," he said.  "If there are things here that you need, bring them with you."

Hermione looked sadly around the room, at seven years of her life.  She could not think of one thing that she wanted to take with her.  The shattered remains of her pride did not count.

"There is nothing," she whispered, close to tears.

"Are you sure?"

"Quite sure."  As she struggled to compose herself, Hermione felt a sob rise in her throat.  She dropped her head immediately, but was immediately grasped by the chin and made to look at him.  He was looking at her with an expression full of such sad tenderness that for a second she forgot to breathe.  He blinked slowly, as a cat might.

"If there were a way of making this easier for you . . ." he sighed.  The hand grasping her chin slid around to tangle in the haphazard curls near the back of her head and held her steady.

"I know," Hermione tried desperately to tear her eyes away from his, but his dark gaze continued to hold her still.

". . .I would have found it by now."  Snape's face leaned into hers, his whispered words like a caress against her skin.  Hermione's eyes half closed as she leaned weakly against him.

"Professor Snape?" She asked quietly.  His mouth was now hovering only inches from her own and she couldn't breathe properly.  "Are you going to . . ."

Before she could complete the question, he had answered it for her.

His mouth covered hers gently in a kiss that Hermione would never have expected in a thousand years, and she gave a little gasp of surprise.  Warm lips, slightly dry, pressed inquisitively against her own, shifting slightly to nuzzle against one corner of her mouth, and then the other.  He was exerting only soft pressure that did not require a response, should she not wish to make one, but when Hermione kissed him back she was just as shocked as he was.

Suddenly she was pressed right up against him, returning the kiss eagerly, his hands were on her face, hers were in his hair and they were sharing something that went much further than either had intended to go.  A dangerous passion sparked between them as they kissed each other, hard, only pulling away when they were both breathless.

Hermione kept her eyes closed, waiting for the loud thudding of her heart to slow and quieten, and for reality to creep back into the world.  Gentle hands pressed her shoulders.

"Hermione," his voice was slightly hoarse.  "Hermione, open your eyes.  I need you to look at me."

Wincing, she did as she was told.  Snape was looking at her solemnly, showing no signs of embarrassment at all.  He titled his head very slightly.

"Hermione," he breathed, face rearranging itself into a familiar frown.

"Yes?"  She whispered, opening her eyes properly.

"_Stupefy._"

The world went black.

TBC . . .


	5. Chapter 5

Hermione slid back into consciousness and found herself lying in a comfortable bed, covered warmly by a heavy duvet and still wearing her clothes. Without opening her eyes, she took several shallow breaths as she tried to decide what to do. As it was clear that she was in no immediate danger she had no difficulty in remaining calm, and the hazy light on the other side of her eyelids at least suggested that it was still night, and not much time had passed since Snape had knocked her out.  
  
A dart of fierce anger shot through her as she remembered what he had done to her, followed by another, and then another. She remembered his assurances that he could not force her to do anything against her will and was suddenly furious. Snapping her eyes open, she sat up and scanned the room for the nearest exit. It was then that her eyes fell upon the sleeping figure in the wing back chair next to the bed where she lay.  
  
Sleep gave a shockingly vulnerable air to Severus Snape, and Hermione stared at him openly in surprise. His head had fallen back a little in the chair, and his mouth was slightly open, but his whole face was exposed and open beneath her stare. This close, Hermione could see the little shadows his spiky eyelashes left upon his cheeks, and despite what he had done to her, her heart gave a sudden little tug which was quickly replaced with a resurgence of her fury. A book was open face down across his knees and she leaned over cautiously to see what it was. 'Jane Eyre'. Interesting.  
  
Snape gave a sudden little twitch in his sleep which sent the precariously balanced book crashing to the floor, and instantly he was awake, fathomless eyes looking down at her curiously. Hermione would have made the effort to climb out of the bed had his expression not rooted her to the spot. Gathering handfuls of the bed linen, she balled her hands into fists and waited him out. He had apparently decided upon the same course of action because the silence between them deepened and held until she tore her gaze away from his to look down at her lap.  
  
"Why?" One word fell from her lips, and she winced at the hoarseness in her voice. Snape sighed.  
  
"It was . . . necessary," he said quietly. It was Hermione's turn to look up and his to look down.  
  
"But why?"  
  
"You were in danger." He gave a little shrug and she realized that he had discarded his muggle clothing for the severe black robes she remembered of old.  
  
"Am I at Hogwarts?" She said quickly, looking around the room again. It was not familiar to her.  
  
"No."  
  
"NO?" Hermione felt as though she was going to explode. She made an incomprehensible noise of fury and Snape looked a little taken aback.  
  
"You are safe," he said evenly. "But I could not take you back to Hogwarts."  
  
"WHY NOT?"  
  
"Because you are not yet ready to return there."  
  
Another silence, punctuated only by Hermione breathing raggedly through her mouth.  
  
"If I had thought that you would accompany me willingly I would not have subdued you." Snape's face was drawn tight across his cheekbones, and by turns he looked angry and ashamed. "I am sorry."  
  
"I want to go home." She hugged herself defensively. Snape looked at her with pity in his eyes.  
  
"You cannot."  
  
"Then take me to Hogwarts. I want to see Dumbledore."  
  
"No."  
  
"Am I your hostage?"  
  
"No."  
  
"Then I will take myself to Hogwarts."  
  
"You will not!"  
  
Hermione smacked small hands violently into the bed either side of her.  
  
"Where are we?" She demanded.  
  
He hesitated, and breathed deeply for a moment.  
  
"My . . . home." He said carefully, and Hermione's mind reeled. Nothing of the small room suggested to her that she was in the home of a family of Dark Wizards. Reminded of Grimmauld Place, a tiny smile lifted one corner of her lips before she shook her head to clear the memories.  
  
"How can this be safe?" With her mind now fully alert once more, she was afraid.  
  
"This is not my family home," Snape explained. "Only Dumbledore knows that it exists. You are quite safe."  
  
"That," Hermione lifted angry eyes to his, "was what I used to think about my home. How can the same not be true for you?"  
  
"The Death Eaters think that I am dead. They are not looking for me." Another tiny morsel of information was fed to her, and she sighed her frustration.  
  
"I still don't understand why they are looking for me!" Throwing the duvet off her legs, she struggled to her feet. Snape looked at her warily as she looked anxiously around.  
  
"Where is my wand?" She asked.  
  
"The wand you were so determined not to use just hours ago, Hermione?" His voice was sharp. "That wand?"  
  
"If you like," she said defiantly. "But as I am presumably back within the wizarding world it would be a good idea to at least carry it."  
  
"Have it your way," he sighed. "It's over there, on the mantelpiece."  
  
"Thank you." She crossed the room and scooped up her wand, cradling it absently in her palms. In the chair, Snape steepled his fingers, and she went back to sit on the edge of the bed, looking at him expectantly. He pursed his lips, and Hermione's gaze was instantly drawn there. With a flash of humiliation, she remembered the kiss that they had shared and her cheeks were instantly flooded with crimson.  
  
"You kissed me!" She gasped. He gave her a small smile, and inclined his head.  
  
"I was wondering when you were going to remember that," he said softly.  
  
"You . . . I . . . Oh no," she shook her head vigorously. Snape seemed to be taking a perverse pleasure in her discomfort.  
  
"And for that, Hermione, I refuse to apologize."  
  
Hermione closed her eyes briefly. An image of herself eagerly returning his kiss danced before her closed eyelids. She opened them again, wincing.  
  
"You can't have kissed many women then," she told him bitterly. He laughed.  
  
"On the contrary," his eyes were dancing. "But you were very sweet."  
  
Leaning over, his face was suddenly very close to hers.  
  
"You're . . . not going to do it again, are you?" Hermione asked him nervously.  
  
"Maybe," he whispered. Hermione found that she couldn't seem to move as he closed the gap between them inch by inch. She didn't move a muscle as he pressed his mouth against hers. "Maybe not." He spoke the words against her lips, ensuring that she could feel as well as hear them and sent a shiver right down her spine. She had lifted her hands with the intention of using them to push him away when they suddenly came to rest on either side of his face. He must have caught her astonished impression because she felt his smile. She felt a hand brush her hair, and it seemed like the most natural thing in the world for Hermione to close her eyes and lean into him.  
  
He kissed her deeply this time, but at a leisurely pace that had been missing before. Clever hands traced her curves whilst his tongue traced her bottom lip, Hermione slid her hands around to the soft hair at he back of his neck, trembling against him as he pressed her gently back into the pillows at the top of the bed.  
  
Lying alongside her, Snape put his arms around her and pulled her close so that their bodies were touching from chest to knee and Hermione was reminded of the incident in the alleyway earlier that day. Pressed right up against him like this, she felt as safe as it was possible to feel, and welcomed the sensation. He continued to kiss her with gentle passion, and she kissed him back without hesitation. Long minutes ebbed away, and Hermione felt herself becoming lost in him and in the feelings he evoked within her. She should have found the situation to be absurd, yet somehow it made perfect sense to her. The schoolgirl Hermione would have been disgusted with such behavior, but the adult Hermione felt very different. She welcomed this new intimacy, and found herself looking up at Snape with surprised eyes when he abruptly broke the kiss.  
  
"I am quite happy to continue kissing you all night, Hermione," he whispered. "But we have a visitor . . . look."  
  
He directed her gaze over to the formerly merrily burning fire in the grate, and what she saw made her gasp out loud. Seven years away had made her forgotten about this.  
  
The head of Albus Dumbledore was sitting patiently in the now green flames, waiting for them to realize that he was there. His benign impression gave no suggestion that he was surprised at what they were doing, and instead he smiled the grandfatherly smile that Hermione remembered so well. Somewhere, in the distance, a clock struck twelve. Dumbledore was nodding contentedly.  
  
"Severus. Hermione, it is wonderful to see you again!" He said happily, and then the tone of his voice and his facial expression suddenly changed. "Merry Christmas to you both. Now, please tell me exactly what is going on. Hermione was supposed to be delivered to Hogwarts hours ago"  
  
Snape and Hermione stared at each other.  
  
It seemed that they both had a lot of explaining to do.  
  
TBC . . . 


	6. Chapter 6

Hermione gathered her wits quickly, taking several deep breaths to compose herself. Mortification flushed her cheeks in a brilliant scarlet, and she was forced once again to question her actions. Kissing Snape? Her strange attraction to him was closely linked to the fact that she was seeing him more and more as her rescuer, her protector from those who would seek to cause her harm. The gratitude she felt towards him had been somehow skewed into sexual attraction. Dangerous sexual attraction at that, she hardly knew the man!  
  
Glancing over at him, she met his eyes briefly and gave a small nod to tell him that she would speak with Dumbledore first. Snape gave her a curious look, but shrugged his agreement anyway. Hermione bit back a sigh and forced herself to sit up on the bed, straightening her skirt and blouse, noticing that the top button had somehow managed to become undone and doing it up hurriedly with fingers that were less than steady. She was aware of Dumbledore's benign expression and patient air, but knew not to test his generosity, and so she moved quickly across the room to sit on the rug next to the fireplace where he waited.  
  
"Headmaster," she said softly, reaching out a hand to within inches of his face. "It is so good to see you again."  
  
That at least was true; she had never forgotten his generosity towards her. He had acted to help her despite his better judgment, and Hermione was profoundly grateful. She lifted her soft brown eyes to his blue ones, and found them twinkling delightedly.  
  
"Ah Miss Granger, we have much catching up to do," he chuckled. "The years since we last met have treated you well?"  
  
"Very," Hermione replied faintly. "Thank you. But I feel that I should explain . . . the delay in my arrival at Hogwarts, Headmaster . . . it is my fault. You see, I was adamant that I would not return quite so soon, and Professor Snape suggested that he bring me here first, as a halfway house of sorts," the words tumbled out and she straightened her posture a little. She made a conscious decision not to mention that she had been brought to Snape's house by force, and if Dumbledore suspected her of lying, he showed no indication of it.  
  
"I do intend to return, Headmaster." She continued. "Imminently."  
  
Dumbledore nodded, and Hermione saw his gaze slide past her to Snape, who was now sitting on the edge of the bed.  
  
"Good," he nodded. "Very good. It is important, Miss Granger . . ." his voice had once more become serious ". . . that you return to the castle as soon as possible. You are needed." He gave her a long, meaningful look that left Hermione in no doubt that what he said was true, and then he was addressing Snape.  
  
"Severus, would you leave us for a moment?"  
  
Snape gave a low noise of obvious annoyance and stalked from the room without a word. Hermione wondered what was so important that it had to be said to her privately. She looked at Dumbledore expectantly. His expression was grave.  
  
"One more thing, Hermione," he said softly. "I would discourage you to form any . . . attachments before you hear what it is that I must tell you."  
  
Hermione's confusion was obvious. Why would Dumbledore warn her off Snape?  
  
"I'm not sure that I understand what you mean, Headmaster," she said carefully. Dumbledore frowned.  
  
"Professor Snape, Hermione," he said warningly. The tone of his voice suggested that she should not ask 'why'.  
  
"I see." She didn't, but saw no reason why Dumbledore should know this.  
  
"Excellent." He was nodding his approval. "Well then, I will be expecting you within the hour."  
  
"Within the hour," she repeated dully. "Until then, Headmaster."  
  
"Until then, Hermione." Dumbledore beamed, and with a quiet pop, disappeared. The fire returned to burning normally, and Hermione stood up and walked slowly over to the window.  
  
Pulling aside one of the heavy curtains she looked out into the world beyond the window. There was not much to see, she was in a small narrow street that ran end to end with small terraced houses and wrought iron railings. Snow was falling steadily and had already coated most of the cobbles in the centre of the street. A wizarding street then, Hermione decided. Where there were cobbles there were certainly not cars. She turned away briefly as the door into the room opened and Snape re-entered, his face like thunder. It softened a little as he saw her bewildered expression.  
  
"Come away from the window," he instructed quietly. "The Dark Lord's spies are everywhere."  
  
Hermione pulled the curtain closed again and sighed heavily. She found herself close to tears again, horribly confused and weary.  
  
"How did it come to this, Severus?" She used his given name without even realizing that she had done so, and dropped weakly to her knees, hanging her head. "I am a pawn in a game and there is nothing that I can do about it!"  
  
With a rustling of robes, Snape dropped to his knees beside her. A long finger tilted her chin so that she would look at him. His expression was bleak, and he shook his head.  
  
"You must play the game until the power to make a decision is returned to you," he said simply. "It will only be out of your hands a little longer, be patient."  
  
"I can't!" Tears blurred her vision, and gentle fingers wiped them away.  
  
"You must," he was shaking his head again. "Because there is no other way."  
  
Face crumpling, Hermione buried her face into his robes and he held her gently while she sobbed helplessly into his chest. Long minutes had passed when they eventually subsided into soft hiccups.  
  
"If you seek the truth, seek the once who has the answers," Snape murmured into her hair, and Hermione lifted her head to look into his black eyes, once again remembering Dumbledore's warning to her.  
  
She did not mean to defy him, not really, but he had only warned her against forming any new attachments, and had said nothing about the ones she had already formed, so when he leaned forward to kiss away the tears that tracked down her cheeks she did not push him away or ask him to stop. When he pulled away and looked at her quizzically she pulled him back and let him kiss her desperately, returning it with some desperation of her own. Hermione was not foolish enough to think that this would be allowed once she returned to Hogwarts, but the moment was over all too soon, and they were once more staring at each other curiously.  
  
"I should thank you for telling Dumbledore that you came here willingly," Snape said awkwardly. Hermione shook her head, curls framing her flushed face.  
  
"It doesn't matter now," she said softly.  
  
"You did not have to say what you said." He refuted gently, and Hermione frowned.  
  
"No." She looked down at her knees. "But it was easier that way."  
  
"Not for you." She looked up at him, confused. His eyes glittered strangely. She laid a hand on his black-robed arm and squeezed it a little.  
  
"I am grateful that you brought me here, even against my will. You were right, I was not ready to return," she explained. "But I am now."  
  
Snape winced, and lifted a hand to pinch the bridge of his nose.  
  
"As you wish," he intoned.  
  
"Dumbledore said within the hour," Hermione murmured. Snape sighed heavily.  
  
"Then we are out of time," he said.  
  
"So it would appear," inching closer, she placed a soft kiss on his cheek. He visibly stiffened.  
  
"What was that for?" He asked, touching the spot where she had kissed him.  
  
"What do you want it to be for?"  
  
"I don't know."  
  
"You saved my life tonight. I owe you much more than that."  
  
Hermione had never knowingly sailed as close to the wind as she was doing now. Feelings that she could not name were swamping her, and she had a sudden urge to do something that she had not done in a long time. Snape was looking at her askance, and two bright spots were glowing high up on his cheeks. Biting her lip, she closed her eyes and breathed deeply until the feeling had passed. Climbing unsteadily to her feet, she waited as Snape did the same.  
  
"Would you like some robes? My transfiguration is a little rusty . . ." he wrinkled his nose thoughtfully and Hermione watched as he took a set of his own robes from a cupboard and waved his wand at them. They were instantly changed into a slightly smaller set and a heavy winter cloak, both in a velvety navy blue fabric. Holding them out, he watched silently as she struggled with the long forgotten mechanics before shaking them out and sliding both over her shoulders. As nimble fingers fastened the cloak securely around her, Hermione realized that they were a perfect fit. She smiled shyly as the hood was lifted to cover her head.  
  
"We will have to walk from the gates up to the castle," he explained. "These should keep you warm enough I think . . ." Shrugging into a black velvet cloak of his own, Snape slowly became aware that Hermione would not be able to apparate by herself, and with a sigh he reached out and curled her into his arms.  
  
"Are you ready?" He murmured, and felt a barely discernible nod into his chest.  
  
Within seconds they had disappeared from the house and reappeared in a snow- covered lane before a pair of high gates, topped either side by winged boars. Through the gates and along a sweeping drive stood the castle Hermione remembered so well, all towers and turrets and bright lights against the dark night.  
  
"Hogwarts," she said heavily, her face still buried in Snape's chest. "Oh Merlin. Hogwarts."  
  
She felt, as well as heard his chuckle.  
  
"Correct. Now come."  
  
Releasing her from his embrace, he grasped her hand in his own and gave a little tug so that she would begin walking. Before Hermione could take it in, he had swept her past the gates and into the grounds of the castle proper. She felt a brief tingling all over her skin and looked up at her companion questioningly. He glanced sideways at her and nodded.  
  
"The castle is just reacquainting itself, so to speak. It should not hurt."  
  
"It didn't."  
  
"Good."  
  
Their boots left small prints in the snow, the trail lengthening as they neared the castle. The main doors were perhaps twenty metres away when Hermione stopped suddenly to look back at their path. Two sets of footprints disappeared off towards the gates, and she smiled weakly. Snape must have seen her smile, because he nudged her gently. She looked up at him, surprised by the unexpected tenderness in his eyes.  
  
"Much as you would not expect me to say this, you are not alone Hermione."  
  
"Thank you," touched, she squeezed his hand. He squeezed hers back.  
  
"Whatever happens in the coming days, however you feel, you are not alone."  
  
The veiled warning resounded in her ears, and she nodded solemnly. The bonds which had been formed between them these past weeks were real enough then. Looking back at the castle, it suddenly did not seem so formidable after all.  
  
"I understand." Snow caught in her eyelashes and she blinked it away. "I am ready."  
  
Turning back to the doors, she watched as they swung silently open. Faces were gathered in the entrance hall to greet her. Dumbledore, she could see. Hagrid, McGonagall, friends of old. She sighed wistfully and Snape released her hand and placed his mouth against her ear.  
  
"Go then," he whispered. "They are waiting."  
  
She did not need to be asked twice. Leaving his side, Hermione dashed across the snowy ground and into the waiting arms of the community that she had abandoned so many years ago.  
  
TBC . . .  
  
***  
  
A/N: Sorry, this is a repost, FF.net ate the last upload and it wasn't showing on the system. DistinctVagueness, I think it may have eaten your review as well - I'm so sorry.  
  
This is still not mine! Sorry this has taken a while to update, I have been busy with work etc. I hope this hasn't disappointed, it was written quite quickly. More soon!  
  
Please review - it really does mean a lot to me and helps me to write more (no flaming though!).  
  
Thanks so much to everyone who has already done so, please continue to do so - you *all* give me the encouragement to continue!  
  
Danric-Lover - thanks for your review, it actually spurred me into getting on with it! I hope this is ok for you, I will update as regularly as possible so you don't get really *bad* withdrawal symptoms! 


	7. Chapter 7

Warm embraces from old friends, once thought lost. Smiling faces, the chatter of conversation. A hundred questions that Hermione tried bravely to answer.  
  
"Yes thank you, I'm very well."  
  
"Seven years. A long time, I know."  
  
"Something to do with Dumbledore, I don't know what yet."  
  
"Professor Snape. He was most insistent."  
  
"No, not at all, he was quite the gentleman."  
  
An island in a sea of overzealous people, Hermione closed her eyes in a brief moment when exhaustion threatened to claim her and opened them again when a firm hand grasped her shoulder. Albus Dumbledore's aged face looked kindly down on her.  
  
"I suppose that you are quite tired," he murmured. Hermione nodded, and smiled weakly at her assorted old friends. "It would not do to exhaust you further with such . . . superfluous questioning. Everyone that you see here are very glad to see you, Hermione."  
  
With a wave of his hand the people before them stepped to one side in order to allow them safe passage deeper into the castle. With murmuring calls of 'goodnight' echoing behind them, Dumbledore led Hermione a short distance to a small door halfway up the west tower and stopped.  
  
"Headmaster, what am I expected . . ." She looked up at him expectantly, but any hope for answers this night was dashed by his reply.  
  
"Now, child, there will be time for your questions when you have had an opportunity to settle in properly." He smiled at her frustrated expression benignly. "I know you seek many answers, but now is not the time. It is Christmas. Please, enjoy yourself, and when you are ready, you will know."  
  
"But I'm ready now!"  
  
"The password on your rooms is 'licorice allsorts', but of course you may change it if you wish." Dumbledore continued as if he had not heard her protestation at all.  
  
"But Headmaster!"  
  
"Goodnight, Hermione." His voice was firm, warning her against further argument, but his eyes were twinkling in the dim light of the corridor. He dropped an unexpected kiss onto the top of her head, his beard tickling her face as he did so.  
  
"Goodnight, Headmaster," sighing her assent, Hermione watched as he walked away in what she vaguely remembered as the direction of his office, and then stared as he turned back slightly.  
  
"I for one am very glad you have returned to us, Child," he said softly. "You have my word that I would not do you further harm after all that it has taken to make you return."  
  
Sudden tears glittered in her eyes.  
  
"I know," she whispered. "And I trust you."  
  
With a wave of his hand, he rounded a corner and was gone. Hermione turned grimly back to the door and muttered the password at it. The door swung open at once to reveal a circular room dominated by a canopied bed on a raised platform. A fire crackled in the grate, the room was warm and cozy. With a little cry of frustration and exhaustion, she pushed the door closed and made straight for the bed. A pair of brushed cotton pajamas, Hermione's size, and a small bundle of toiletries lay next to the pillow. Picking up both, she walked slowly into the small bathroom which adjoined the bedroom, finding it well appointed with a freestanding bath and a rack stacked high with fluffy white towels. She looked longingly at both, but as sleep was rushing to claim her she simply washed her face and brushed her teeth before slipping out of her cloak and robes and into the pajamas. Leaning over the marble sink she looked at her reflection in the gilt-edged mirror and sighed. For a moment, she did not recognize the young woman staring back at her, and the huge brown eyes in the pale faced reflection grew wide. Wearily freeing her cinnamon curls from what remained of her bun she finger-combed them out over her shoulders and stifled a yawn. The bed beckoned.  
  
Picking up her wand from the jumble of clothes now on the bathroom floor Hermione walked back into the bedroom and tucked it under the pillow where she intended to lay her head.  
  
"Just like old times," she murmured, sliding under the heavy duvet and pulling it right up to her chin. The lights in the room diminished to almost nothing, and her heavy eyes drifted closed. The deep silence held her in a gentle embrace, lulling her to sleep almost instantly, and for once, Hermione did not dream of the castle in which she now slept.  
  
Safe now, her subconscious whispered into her sleeping ears. Safe.  
  
*  
  
The dawn was still someway off when Hermione came suddenly awake again, and her bleary brain told her that she had been sleeping for less than six hours. She was disoriented for a moment, until the memories flooded back to startle her into full wakefulness, and then she lay in the dark for long minutes pondering the decisions that had led her to her current position. Her thoughts offered her little comfort, and restlessness eventually stole her from her bed.  
  
Her feet, upon touching the platform on which the bed rested, immediately found a pair of slippers, and her smile in the darkness was wide. Sliding her feet into them, she walked silently across the floor of her rooms to the door.  
  
Pulling it open, she paused for a moment, wondering what she was doing and where she was going. The hallway beyond the door was silent and shadowed as torches burned low. Nothing moved.  
  
Reminding herself that she was no longer a student, Hermione stepped boldly into the corridor and the door closed behind her with a soft 'click'. Letting her feet take her wherever they would while allowing her mind to drift aimlessly, she rounded a corner and descended a narrow flight of stairs without really seeing them. Finding herself in a corridor identical to the previous one she followed that, also, and abruptly found herself in the main entrance to the castle.  
  
The room was dominated by the biggest Christmas tree she had ever seen, twinkling a little in the half-light of the room, and she stood silently next to it for a moment, inhaling its' rich pine scent which reminded her fiercely of Christmas. Turning a little to her right, Hermione noticed the four house point counters recessed into the wall on the far side of the hallway, and moved closer to stand right in front of them.  
  
Nostalgia assailed her, leaving her suddenly breathless. Had it really been seven years? Standing solitary in the darkness she longed for that which could never be returned and then shook her head to clear the cloudy memories. The counters told her that Gryffindor were currently leading the house championship, with Slytherin and Ravenclaw not too far behind. Wondering what Snape would have to say about that curved her lips in a half smile. Thinking of Snape gave her a small start. Remembering his words to her in the snow, Hermione's head turned towards the archway containing the stairs that led down to the dungeons. Would she be welcome there? Had anything changed in the time she had been away? Intensely curious to know, she made her way cautiously down the stairs and into the chilly depths of the castle.  
  
Colder now, and her breath fogging the air in front of her a little, Hermione was surprised with the ease that her feet led her to the potions classroom. Pushing open the unlocked door, she entered the room on silent feet and stood in the centre of the deserted room. There was no way of knowing where Snape's rooms might be, but she sensed that they were somewhere close by. If he was there, she knew, he would come to her.  
  
Several minutes ebbed away and Hermione felt herself growing colder. Shivering a little, she scanned the room hopefully.  
  
"Professor Snape?" Her voice was low but clear and carried to every corner of the room. "Severus?"  
  
There was no response, and Hermione felt oddly disappointed. Backtracking into the main entranceway, she once again let her feet be her guides as her mind remembered black eyes staring into her own. When she came to a halt outside the hospital wing she looked at the door in mild surprise, and yawned.  
  
"I wonder if Poppy is awake yet?" She murmured to herself. "Maybe she'll have a dreamless sleep potion that I can take . . ."  
  
Pushing open the door, her eyes immediately fell upon a screened off section of the room, and sympathy combined with an innate curiosity compelled her forward. To be in bed ill at Christmas must be an awful thing. A silhouette on the other side of the screen moved a little and Hermione almost turned back, relived that whoever it was was not alone. Close enough to touch the screens, she peered around them and gave a sharp gasp of disbelief.  
  
The figure sitting sleepily on a chair at the side of the screened off bed was Severus Snape, and he spotted her as soon as she emitted the sound, rising to his feet in a defensive gesture designed to warn her off. Hermione was only vaguely aware of him, so transfixed was her gaze upon the figure lying motionless and sickly in the bed.  
  
Messy dark hair, overlong and in desperate need of cutting. A scar, shaped like a lightning bolt on his forehead. His eyes were closed, but Hermione knew that should he open them that they would be bright green.  
  
Giving another little gasp, she clung to the edge of the screen and stared. Opening her mouth, she spoke in a frightened whisper.  
  
"Harry?"  
  
***  
  
A/N: Now come on, tell me that you didn't see *that* coming! This is just a filler chapter for further revelations ahead, and all will be revealed very shortly! If everything is a bit confusing, I am working on answering all of your questions through the story. One thing I can confirm is that Snape is definitely not a vampire! None of the revelations to come concern him, and I'm sorry if I've given the (misleading) impression that he is or might be. The thing with Hermione's cottage was to do with wards placed there by Dumbledore, not because SS is a vamp! I hope that doesn't disappoint.  
  
Many thanks for all of the reviews so far, I'm hoping to be able to drag this out a little while longer yet, so please keep them coming! 


	8. Chapter 8

A minute passed, and then another, as Hermione continued to stare at the sickly figure lying in the bed. For a moment she simply could not believe what it was her eyes were seeing, but as the doubt faded to the edges of her psyche she was left with only the truth laid out starkly before her shocked gaze.  
  
In her years away from Hogwarts she had had absolutely no contact with anybody from the wizarding world, and had at first felt Harry's loss the greatest. They had been best friends, and more at one time, and she had missed him so much more than she would ever admit. Seeing him there, unconscious and sick, her heart thudded painfully in her chest as moved forward a few small steps in order to stand closer to the bed. Vaguely aware of Snape standing impassively on the other side of the bed, she stared down at her old friend, lifting her hands to cover her mouth.  
  
"Oh Harry!" Her voice was muffled. "Harry!"  
  
At a first glance perhaps it was possible to simply assume that he was only sleeping, but a closer look did not reinforce the initial diagnosis. Harry Potter's pallor was sickly; his skin slack and pale as though it had not been used to speak, to smile, to frown, in a long time. His overlong hair covered the tops of his ears and most of the scar on his forehead, giving him a slightly neglected air, although Hermione knew that that could not possibly be the case. His body, beneath the hospital wing bedding, was thin and unmoving. Hermione could not prevent the tears that sprang into her eyes from rolling soundlessly down her cheeks.  
  
"Is this why I have been summoned back here? To witness this?" Her voice was broken. She wiped angrily at the tears and stared across at Snape. For his part, he looked oddly stricken and sorrow was lurking at the edge of his expression. His eyes met hers, he shook his head quickly.  
  
"You were not meant to find out like this," he said quietly. "It may have spared you pain to have known the circumstances before you saw him . . . like this." His eyes dropped to the unconscious Harry. A bubble of white-hot anger formed in Hermione's chest and rose into her throat before she could control it.  
  
"To hell with the 'circumstances'!" Her voice was shrill. "You knew! You knew all along! And I trusted you!"  
  
The stricken expression faded, replaced by a calm assurance which only served to anger her further.  
  
"And you still can trust me," he said.  
  
Hermione stared at him stonily, it was an ugly moment.  
  
"I should have known," she said viciously. "Do you take me for a complete fool? Do you all? Lies and deceit! If you had been honest from the beginning do you not think that I would have come willingly? He was one of my best friends!"  
  
"Was, Hermione," Snape bit back sharply. "Isn't that the operative word?"  
  
His jibe hit home immediately, and Hermione flushed a deep scarlet. Too late she realized that her wand was not in her pocket, but under her pillow where she had left it.  
  
"How dare you? What the hell do you know about it?"  
  
Striding around the bottom of the bed she pushed her face right into Snape's, leaning into him in anger. He grasped her upper arms and gave her an angry little shake.  
  
"Where is the sense in asking you back here to only witness something that would only cause you more pain, more confusion than you are already suffering?" He spoke quickly and firmly. "Of course that is not the reason. It is only part of the reason. Why do you think that the Dark Lord's minions were looking for you in the village?"  
  
"You . . . you told me that it was because I was muggle-born, because I was powerful . . ." a look of weary defeat passed across her face, dimming her fury. "Was that a lie as well?"  
  
"Not entirely. They are perfectly valid reasons." The hands grasping her shoulders moved in small circles that calmed her further.  
  
"What is the real reason, Severus?" Hermione looked up at him, feeling herself on a precipice. He looked from her to the bed, and back again, and sighed heavily.  
  
"They know, of course, of your links to Harry."  
  
"What does that have to do with anything? He is hardly a threat like that, is he?"  
  
"That is the point!" Snape hissed. "They know, Hermione!"  
  
"Know what?" Nerves began to unfurl in her tummy, fluttering like butterflies.  
  
"That you are the one!"  
  
"The one to do what?"  
  
"The one . . ." His eyes slid away from hers, and his hands dropped to his sides.  
  
"The one who has the power to wake him."  
  
Dumbledore's voice was very close by, and Hermione turned to see him standing right next to her. Suppressing a little gasp of surprise she observed the headmaster's serious face, and then reached out a hand to find and then sink into the chair that Snape had previously been occupying.  
  
"I don't understand." She said faintly. "What . . . what do you mean? He isn't dying?"  
  
"No, Hermione, he is not dying. At least, not yet." Dumbledore glanced down at Harry. "He is experiencing a sleep of sorts, not unlike something that you would know in the muggle world as a coma. It does not harm him, quite the opposite in actual fact."  
  
Hermione followed his gaze to Harry.  
  
"He does not look well," she murmured hesitantly, which at least was true.  
  
"Therein lies the problem," Dumbledore whispered. "It has been keeping him safe for several months now, but when Poppy came to revive him, the spell failed. Every attempt since has failed. He will not wake in the way in which he was intended to, and this prolonged sleep is slowly harming him."  
  
"Wait." Hermione held up a hand. "There is something that I don't understand. Why is it keeping him safe, what from?"  
  
"Voldemort, Hermione," Dumbledore's expression was grave. "You remember how he sought to use Harry, and Harry's mind through the link that they share as a tool for his own ends?"  
  
"Yes," she said weakly. "But this seems a very extreme . . ."  
  
"You have been away too long, Child. Voldemort's grip on Harry has been slowly increasing for a long time now, not all at once you understand, but gradually over the course of years. Harry was desperate, and eventually this plan was devised for him in order to give him a rest from the horror that he was experiencing. It was only a temporary measure, however, so you can understand the problems that this prolonged sleep is causing."  
  
"Who did this, Headmaster? Who put Harry there?" Hermione felt a burning desire to know, as if it would somehow make a difference.  
  
There was an extraordinarily long pause.  
  
"I did."  
  
The low voice which eventually spoke belonged to Snape, and Hermione looked up at him with horrified eyes. A few things became clearer to her, she at least knew now why he had been sent to retrieve her from her home, and why he had been so desperate for her to come willingly and quickly. His eyes met hers; they stared at each other wordlessly. Dumbledore looked from one to the other thoughtfully.  
  
"It is not, of course, any fault of Severus's that this went wrong," he said. "There was no way of knowing that Harry would go so deeply into the magically wrought sleep that we could not retrieve him."  
  
"I have tried." Snape's voice was an impassioned plea as he completely disregarded Dumbledore's statement. Hermione let herself believe him, and gave a small nod.  
  
"What is it that you need me to do, Headmaster?" She asked, at last tearing her gaze away from Snape's.  
  
For the first time, Dumbledore hesitated. A long hand tugged thoughtfully at his beard.  
  
"You are not yet ready for what I will ask of you." He said thoughtfully. Hermione shook her head determinedly, and he smiled. "You are not, and I know that you think you are. There are still things that you must come to terms with before I will allow you to try to wake Harry, Hermione."  
  
"What things?" The angry burning had begun again, but this time she managed to force it away. Dumbledore gave her a meaningful look.  
  
"If you do not know what they are already, then you will know soon." He promised her. "It is not easy to remember, but in your case it is necessary."  
  
"I see." Glancing one last time at her sleeping friend, Hermione rose to her feet and dropped a small kiss on his clammy forehead. "I'll come back soon, Harry. I promise." Straightening up, she looked from Dumbledore to Snape. Both were looking at her expectantly.  
  
"I think I'll go back to my rooms," She muttered. Dumbledore nodded sagely.  
  
"I trust that I'll be seeing you for Christmas lunch, in the Great Hall?"  
  
"I hope so," Hermione's voice was small as she had no intention of laying herself bare before assorted spectators in the Great Hall. "Until then, Headmaster, Professor Snape."  
  
She walked from the room at a quick pace, holding her spinning head high. She was nearly halfway back to her rooms and beginning to cry freely when Snape caught up with her.  
  
"Hermione, wait!" He called sharply, and broke into a half run along the corridor as she kept her back to him and kept walking. His longer legs allowed him to keep silent pace with her, and she stalked into her rooms without a backward glance to throw herself onto the bed. Burying her face in the pillows she laid still and gave several angry sobs as her tears ceased, finally lifting her head to see Snape kneeling at the side of the bed and looking at her intently.  
  
"None of this is your fault," he said softly. "You must not blame yourself."  
  
"I don't blame myself." Hermione was surprised to find her voice calm and steady. The urge to hurt, to cause pain similar to that which she felt, was strong. "The only person that I blame, and I blame them completely for all of this, is you."  
  
TBC . . .  
  
A/N: Err, still not mine. Obviously. Keep those reviews coming! I would like to point out that I wrote this entire chapter without the use of one very sore cut finger! I'm dedicated, you see. More coming very soon! 


	9. Chapter 9

A/N: I haven't updated this in *ages* but as I haven't got any other creative ideas at the moment, here is a new chapter! Hopefully I'll be able to update again soon, so I hope you like this. If you do, as always a review would be greatly appreciated!  
  
***  
  
Snape's face remained strangely calm, but his eyes were blazing as he continued to stare at her. Beneath her own anger, Hermione was felt briefly guilty for provoking him so unnecessarily, but the guilt was quickly overcome by what he would say next.  
  
"Your anger is misplaced." His voice was even and steady; a flush was creeping up his cheeks.  
  
"You sound just like Dumbledore!" She hissed.  
  
"I would not bring the headmaster into this." He warned her. Hermione sighed heavily, looking away from him.  
  
"You know what it is he will ask me to do," she stated quietly. "Please tell me what it is."  
  
Snape shook his head once, emphatically.  
  
"I cannot." He said.  
  
"Why not?" She demanded.  
  
"Because it is not my place . . ." His dark eyes drifted away from hers, and closed briefly. Hermione made a small dismissive noise low in her throat and Snape looked at her again. "Because you are not yet ready," he said heavily.  
  
"I already know that!" Her voice was sharp. "Why don't you tell me something that I don't know?"  
  
Swinging her legs over the side of the bed she climbed to her feet in order to pace from one end of the small room to the other. Snape rose from his position next to the bed and watched her impassively, his face set and unreadable.  
  
"Fine." His voice, when he finally spoke was taught with carefully controlled anger. "Fine. Know this then. When I placed Harry under the deep sleep spell I was unaware of the problems that we would have waking him from it. It has taken several months of research to discover the exact nature of the problem . . ."  
  
Hermione harrumphed incredulously and folded her arms across her chest defensively. Snape sent her one piercing look of fury and then blithely ignored her, continuing his monologue.  
  
". . . We now know that the reason that Harry will not wake up is Harry himself. He has effectively locked himself within his own mind, and is refusing to leave. He is behaving, in effect, as if trapped within a pensieve. He will not leave. We do not know why."  
  
"You do know why." Hermione stopped pacing and came to a stop in front of Snape's still form. Her chocolate eyes pleaded with his dark ones.  
  
"Do I?" His voice was bitter. Hermione continued to stare at him.  
  
"Voldemort." She whispered. "What other reason is there?"  
  
"Indeed." Snape raised his eyebrows.  
  
"But where do I come into this?" She pressed him gently, feeling the closeness of the answer as it hung between them. "Why am I needed?"  
  
Snape reached out and grasped her firmly by the shoulders. His hands were warm through the fabric of her pajamas and she unconsciously leaned into him, her head tilted up to his and her lips parted slightly. He bent his head towards her until their faces were only inches apart, their eyes boring into each other.  
  
"Severus." She whispered. "Tell me. Please."  
  
His gaze flicked from her eyes to her mouth, and back again. Electricity crackled the air surrounding them, and Hermione was sure that her knees would have given way had it not been for Snape's arms going firmly around her in order to hold her upright. The feel of his body as it rested against hers, and the musky sandalwood scent that she knew was his, was intoxicating. Hermione struggled to keep her mind fixed upon their conversation when her emotions were bubbling so close to the surface. She reminded herself that she had promised Dumbledore that this would not happen, that she would not do this, but as Snape's mouth drifted ever closer her resolve evaporated and it was Hermione who closed the distance, leaning into him and kissing him hard.  
  
She seemed to forget everything then, as for long minutes all she could feel, all she wasted to feel, were Snape's lips against hers. The kiss had not begun tenderly, but as seconds slid past his mouth softened against hers until they were barely kissing at all. Hermione heard him groan from somewhere deep in his throat and then, when she was fully expecting him to push her firmly away he pulled her much closer, hands smoothing across curves barely concealed by her borrowed nightwear. Hermione welcomed his touch, feeling the spark within her abruptly flare into something much bigger and beyond her control. Suddenly frightened, she stepped backwards, breaking their contact. Struggling for breath, she looked down at the floor for a few moments in order to gain her composure. What was happening to her? What was happening to them?  
  
"I'm sorry." Her voice was low and husky. "I shouldn't have done that."  
  
She looked up in time to see the weary resignation on Snape's face.  
  
"No." He agreed softly. "We should not have."  
  
The slight emphasis that he placed upon 'we' reassured her slightly and she moved quickly to sit in an armchair next to the embers of the fire. Snape sat in the chair opposite, leaning forward with his hands clasped loosely between his knees. The pale morning light combined with the weak firelight and he suddenly looked very tired. Hermione's anger and confusion faded a little and she sighed a little as she looked over him; seeing him through adult eyes was very different from being his student.  
  
He was not as gaunt as she remembered from her schooldays, nor was he so unhealthy pale and oily. Instead, Hermione saw a pale middle aged wizard sitting before her who seemed to be weary of the entire world. His strikingly dark eyes searched the fireplace unseeingly and eventually lifted to meet hers. There was resignation there, she saw, but also resolve. He was going to tell her, she realized. He was going to tell her what she was doing here!  
  
"We have learned that the only way to wake Harry involves magically entering his thoughts, much like Leglimency. You are aware of this practice?" Snape's voice was abrupt.  
  
"Of course." Hermione was going to say 'mind reading', but guessed correctly that it was a much more subtle science that that.  
  
"The problem that we have is that he appears to have locked himself into thoughts that involve memories of just one person. Someone whom he loved. He will answer to no one else in the conscious world." Snape looked at her expectantly, and Hermione tried and failed to quell the horror rising within her. "It is required that that person pays a visit to Harry's subconscious mind, and wakes him, so to speak, from within."  
  
"Me?" She was compelled to ask, even though she knew the answer. Snape looked at her silently for a long time, his expression inscrutable.  
  
"There is more."  
  
"Oh, Merlin." How could things be any worse than this? Hermione was only beginning to understand the enormity of what lay ahead of her, of what she surely must do.  
  
"The Dark Lord and his supporters know of Harry's condition . . . we do not know how. They also know what we know, about waking him. They fear the prophecy, Hermione, and what may come to pass if it is fulfilled. They are prepared to keep Harry in his current state, they know he cannot last much longer without intervention."  
  
"Then they know about me?" Her voice was dull. "That's why they were looking for me?"  
  
Snape nodded, his eyes held hers.  
  
"The Death Eaters are under instruction. You were to be killed upon discovery."  
  
Hermione slid her hands up to her face, unable to cry. She was shaking.  
  
"Powerful indeed," she whispered. When am I required to . . . do this?"  
  
For the first time, Snape looked taken aback.  
  
"You are not even supposed to know yet. Dumbledore would not have you know before you are ready."  
  
"I am ready now!" Hermione lurched to her feet and abruptly sat back down as the room span around her. Snape's smile was slow and mocking.  
  
"You are not ready. It is not for you to say, little one," he tilted his head to one side, and stared at her thoughtfully. "I know you wish to do this, but there is time yet. Consider a while your return to this world. You have been away a long time. It is a muggle saying, is it not, that Rome was not built in a day?"  
  
"But . . ." She balled her hands into fists with impotent fury.  
  
"No but." Snape got to his feet in a graceful rustling of robes. "I will leave you now. I suggest you rest a little more, and think about what I have told you."  
  
He walked to the door of her rooms, opened it and stepped out into the hallway without looking back. Hermione watched him until he closed the door and left her alone again. Her head was spinning and suddenly all she wanted to do was sleep again. The information she had so desperately wanted had been given to her and left her exactly where she began. What was the point of knowing, she wondered, if there was no opportunity to act upon that knowledge?  
  
Climbing into the unmade bed, she pulled the duvet up to her chin and closed her eyes. Sleep claimed her quickly, tugging her into an oblivion where no thought was required, and not for the first time, Hermione found herself profoundly grateful.  
  
TBC 


	10. Chapter 10

When Hermione woke again, several hours later, the light beyond her windows was murky, but discernibly different from how it had been before she had fallen asleep. A glance at her watch told her that it was almost four o'clock, and it was already getting dark.  
  
Restlessness tore at Hermione's soul as she cast helplessly around the room. She had never imagined that she would spend a Christmas quite like this one, and her spirits dipped further. A small bookcase in one corner of the room caught her eye, but she did not want to read. The escapism of novels would only keep her from the real world for so long . . . and at the moment that was simply not good enough.  
  
Climbing out of bed she wandered to the window and looked at the snow covered castle grounds spread out beneath her. The light was failing, but there was still light enough so that she might go for a short walk. Dressing in her borrowed transfigured robes and cloak only took a few minutes, and then Hermione was striding determinedly towards the entrance hall. She was surprised that she still knew the way, but then time didn't erase all memories, did it? The corridors were unusually deserted; Hermione encountered no one and found herself grateful for it. She did not want to see anybody in her present state of mind; she simply wanted to be alone for a while.  
  
Stepping outside, she breathed in a lungful of cold, crisp air and immediately felt better. The castle grounds too, were deserted, the smooth snow all around a testament to that, and so Hermione set off towards the lake at a gentle pace. A cold breeze lifted her heavy curls away from her face, sending them dancing into the air, and she pulled her cloak a little closer about her, grateful for its' heavy warmth. A small sigh escaped her lips as her thoughts once again turned towards the tasks at hand, and her role in the waking of Harry Potter. A frown drew her fair eyebrows together, and she reached the edge of the lake without really paying much attention to how she got there.  
  
Looking back over the sloping grounds to the castle she smiled briefly at the haphazard path she had followed, admiring the picture-perfectness of the scene laid out in front of her. When she had been a student at Hogwarts the castle had been a home away from home for her, but the way she now felt about it filled her with a sense of foreboding. The task which would surely be appointed to her filled her with sudden dread. Whilst waking her sometime friend was doubtless the right thing to do, Hermione feared the recriminations of her actions. Her mind turned in upon itself, searching out memories she had thought buried long ago, and she blinked once and then twice as they threatened to swamp her.  
  
Reluctantly pulling out her wand, she chanced clearing a small circle of snow around her so that she might sit and think awhile. Curling into the velvet folds of her cloak, she let the scenery before her fade into darkness as the memories resurged and pulled her inexorably downwards.  
  
They were blurry at first, like photographs taken out of focus, and Hermione only experienced small snatches of events, the last Christmas she had spent with her parents before their untimely deaths, the Yule ball in her fourth year which she had attended with Victor . . . her eyes softened a little in bittersweet remembrance and then hardened again as she allowed herself to think of Harry, his face his smile, the serious expression on his face when he had asked her to . . . had asked her. . .  
  
The memory would not come.  
  
She would not allow it.  
  
Shaking her head and feeling a sudden stab of pain in her chest, Hermione looked up to see a black shadow detach itself from the grey walls of the castle and make its' way towards her. The shape covered ground towards her at speed, and she was soon able to discern that it was Snape. His face, when he grew close enough to see his expression, was thunderously angry, and he began to shout at her from a fair distance away.  
  
"What in Merlin's name do you think you are DOING?" He bellowed at her from a distance of perhaps fifty metres, and Hermione scrambled to her feet in sudden fear, watching his approach while clenching and unclenching her small hands into fists at her sides.  
  
"HERMIONE GRANGER! To me, this instant!"  
  
She did not need to be asked twice, and fairly ran over to where the enigmatic professor was standing. She had a moment to observe the astonishing contrast that his black robed form made with the sparkling white snow, and then she was being grasped firmly by the upper arms and shaken so hard that her teeth rattled.  
  
"Stop that!" A sudden flash of anger made her pull away from him, but her feet tangled in her trailing cloak and she found herself keeling abruptly backwards into perhaps a foot of undisturbed snow. Her momentum was such that Snape was pulled over as well, landing heavily on top of her petite form.  
  
For a moment they both lay there, too surprised to do anything at all. Hermione, although squashed, closed her eyes and savoured the warmth of his body on top of hers, but her enjoyment was not to last long.  
  
"You stupid girl!" He hissed. Bracing himself by placing hands on either side of her head, he moved as if to begin climbing to his feet, and Hermione surprised herself by reaching out and grabbing fistfuls of his robes in order to roll him over her and into a patch of snow all of his own. Climbing to her feet, she began to stride determinedly back towards the castle without pausing to check what was going on behind her.  
  
"Hermione!" A strong hand curled around her upper arm and whipped her around to face him. She met his eyes warily and choked back a laugh as she realized that he was covered in clumps of snow which gave the odd impression of an inverted dalmatian, black with white spots. "What is so funny?" Raising a sardonic eyebrow, Snape viewed her sourly.  
  
"I . . . nothing," realizing that he would most likely not understand her strange sense of humour, Hermione hid her smile behind her hand. Snape gave her a little poke and tucked one of her arms into his so that they might resume walking back towards the castle.  
  
"You are not to wander outside of the castle alone, do you understand?" When he spoke again, his tones were much more measured his expression calmer.  
  
"May I ask why?" Hermione turned her petulant face his way, and he frowned.  
  
"You know why," he warned. "And besides, this is the Headmaster's instruction. Do not think to defy him as you would me."  
  
Within a few minutes their feet were clicking on the stone walkways of the castle and Hermione disentangled herself with something approaching regret.  
  
"Thank you professor," she spoke in quiet tones of disdain. "Next time I am in need of a knight in shining armor I know where to find you."  
  
A myriad of emotions crossed Snape's pale face, and two spots of pink appeared high up on his cheekbones.  
  
"You will accompany me to my quarters." His voice was emotionless although he was obviously angry.  
  
"I will do no such thing!" Hermione resisted the urge to stamp her foot.  
  
"Then I will accompany you to yours!"  
  
"Fine!" She whirled and marched in a haze of temper back towards the circular room she was to call home.  
  
In her absence, a fire had been lit and the room was pleasantly warm as night began to fall outside. Cringing as she realized that a house elf was most likely responsible, Hermione removed her cloak and threw it carelessly across one of the wingbacked chairs. Snape copied her gesture before turning to face her. He drew a shuddering breath and then looked over at her, a sober expression in his eyes.  
  
"This is hard for you, I know," he spread his hands in front of him placatingly. "But you must understand that we are only trying to keep you safe . . ."  
  
"You are trying to imprison me!" Hermione cut in heatedly. "I cannot, no will not, live like this! I was only walking, I needed to think!"  
  
"Then do so within the castle walls!" Snape's retort was sufficiently infuriating and Hermione found herself leaning right into him in order to shout up into his face.  
  
"Why me? Why do I have to be the one to do this? I never wanted this! I was happy. . ."  
  
"You were lonely," he shook his head at her.  
  
"That's beside the point. Now answer my question: Why me?" Hermione brushed his telling statement aside. Snape shrugged, his black eyes depthless and unreadable.  
  
"Because there is no one else," he said hoarsely. "You know this."  
  
Holding his arms open to her, Hermione instantly accepted his offer of comfort, laying her head upon his shoulder as he held her close.  
  
"I know," she mumbled brokenly. Snape rubbed her back in soothing circles that calmed her.  
  
"When you are ready you will tell me the story of how you came to leave us in the first place," he spoke into the tangle of her hair, and sighed. "When you can face that, Dumbledore will permit you to do . . . what is required."  
  
"I will tell you," she lifted her face to look at him solemnly, and took a deep breath. "If I can't trust you, who can I?" A sad smile flickered across her wan face. "You have become my knight in shining armor lately; I think I owe you more than I know."  
  
"Nonsense," Snape inclined his head to speak soft words against her ear. "Tell me then, and perhaps we can begin to make sense of all this."  
  
"I don't know where to start," Hermione trembled violently as his warm breath caressed the side of her face.  
  
"The beginning is usually a good place," his smile was mocking.  
  
She took a deep breath to compose herself and found that her mind was made up.  
  
She would tell him everything.  
  
TBC 


	11. Chapter 11

A/N: This is a very interesting chapter, but was very difficult to write. I do hope it doesn't disappoint.  
  
I obviously own nothing that you recognize, except the plot.  
  
***  
  
In the fast darkening room, the flickering fire light illuminated Hermione's tense face. She slid her eyes up to Snape's and found him already watching her whilst wearing a calm expression of patience she could not imagine him feeling. His gaze was unwavering but when Hermione felt the arms that were holding her begin to loosen she instinctively pressed closer, and the professor's expression became a little strained. She looked at him pleadingly.  
  
"Don't let me go," she whispered harshly. "Please?"  
  
He began to frown at her strange request but did not refuse it, and once again gathered her closer. Hermione closed her eyes and dipped her head into his chest, trying to draw some strength from his embrace. The heavy wool that formed his outer robes was rough against her cheek, but warm and slightly imbued with his musky scent and she was not consciously aware of the little sigh that escaped her lips as she pressed herself closer still. Snape shifted against her and Hermione almost expected him to push her away, but instead she felt a hand move up her back and come to rest tangled in the hair at the back of her head. The hand exerted enough pressure so that Hermione was forced to tilt her head backwards and open her eyes.  
  
"Look at me," Snape admonished her softly, and as she struggled to move her gaze away the hand tightened on her head. "No, look at me."  
  
She looked at him. Brown eyes mingled with black ones. Their breathing slowed. Time seemed to stand still for a moment, and Hermione felt herself connect with the man who was holding her in a way she had not thought possible. A myriad of emotions assaulted her at once, and combined with the knowledge that he had been there for her throughout this difficult time they took her breath away. Frowning in concentration, she reached up a hand that had until then been laying flat against his chest and ran it slowly up one side of his cheek, curving her palm into his face. She watched as his lips curved into a smile and was more than a little surprised when he turned the smile into her hand, laying a soft kiss against the skin on her palm.  
  
"Such distraction," he muttered huskily, and Hermione felt the words as his lips formed them against her hand. His eyes narrowed a little, and then widened so that she might see that they were almost opaque with something she recognized as an intense longing.  
  
For me, she realized with a jolt. He wants me.  
  
This shocking revelation was tempered somewhat by the fact that it was swiftly followed up when Hermione felt her heart declare a mutual, if frightening response. She was not aware of it, but her own eyes darkened as she continued to watch him and the tightening of his hands upon her body suggested that he understood what it was she was silently telling him. Snape leaned over her, his mouth mere inches from her own.  
  
"We should be talking," he murmured warningly, even as his lips claimed hers.  
  
"I know," Hermione whispered into his kiss. "But not . . . just yet . . ."  
  
Silence blanketed the tower room for long minutes then, only broken by the inconsequential snapping of the fire burning in the grate. Neither Hermione nor Severus heard the soft sounds, so immersed were they in the other. When their kiss finally resolved itself, they were slowly circling in the enclosed space like dancers trapped in a timeless tango.  
  
Hermione laid her head back upon Snape's chest as he turned her deftly about, wondering where all of this was leading her but too afraid to take that final step that would let her find out. Tightening her resolve, she silently promised herself that one day, when this was all over, she would know. Glancing up at him now, she knew full well that he had come to mean more to her in the course of days than many of the people she had known for years. He was her protector, she acknowledged with a small smile, and at the same time he was the last person she would have chosen for the job. Fate could be so strange. She closed her eyes and drew upon the well of courage that she knew was to be found in her heart. Using the well practiced technique of disconnecting her emotions from her voice, Hermione opened her mouth and let the words tumble forth. She intended to tell Snape everything, and once she began to talk, she knew that it was too late to renege on her promise.  
  
"Did you know, Professor, that Harry and I were together when we were in our final year here?" Although a rhetorical question, she fully expected the indignant snort that came from Snape, somewhere above her head. "I know, we did little to conceal it from anyone. But we were young, and I don't think that we knew, really, how to hide the way we felt about each other. There seemed little reason to at the time." Hermione's lips pursed a little as she lifted the memories from their carefully filed spaces in her head. "I presumed myself too in love to really consider the consequences of our relationship. The war was already beginning, we were all in danger but Harry and those closest to him most of all," she shook her head into his chest. "I so wanted to be near to him, to keep him safe. He was my best friend . . ." her voice trailed away into the dark, and Snape stilled her in his arms.  
  
"Your best friend?" He echoed her statement softly.  
  
"It did not take long for me to realize that Harry made a better friend than boyfriend. We were really . . . not compatible, in some ways at least. He was kind and gentle and very loving, but I never felt that spark for him, could never move properly beyond the idea that he was my friend. I was hoping that Harry would realize as well, that he would suffer the same doubts that I had . . . but you see, he never did! He used to tell everyone how mad he was about me." Hermione's mouth curved into an uncertain smile, and she shook her head in order to dispel sudden unwelcome thoughts. "I won't lie to you, I enjoyed the attention that being with Harry brought me, but as time passed something changed between us. He became . . . very overzealous, I think. He wanted to spend all his time with me; he didn't want to study, to play Quidditch, any of it. It was suffocating. He didn't like me talking to our other friends if he wasn't there, he was very jealous, he could be possessive when the mood took him. I became frightened, but it was just when I had made the decision to break up with him that he . . . he . . ." Hermione stumbled to a halt and bit her lip miserably. Severus gave her a little shake, his concerned eyes not leaving hers.  
  
"He didn't hurt you, did he?" He asked her in a hushed voice. Hermione shook her head firmly.  
  
"Not in the way that you think," she admonished him gently. Her eyes took on a faraway look. "It was late June, as I remember. He had taken me to the astronomy tower, to talk, he said, and I had already decided that I would be doing some talking of my own. . ." she paused to draw a shuddering breath.  
  
"He wanted us to be just like his parents, Severus. He wanted us to get married!"  
  
"But you were only children!" Snape looked visibly shocked.  
  
"Harry was so insecure. He thought that by marrying me he could somehow combine his need for keeping me with him always with us keeping each other safe. It would never have worked." Her eyes stared into his unblinkingly, her anguish was clearly evident. "I believe then as I believe now: Marrying Harry would have been a terrible mistake."  
  
"I had to tell him the truth then, and I had to put an end to it once and for all. I've never forgotten the look on his face when I refused him, so angry yet so crushed at the same time. He said then that wanted nothing to do with me, he never wanted to see me again. I think it's probably a good job he didn't have his wand with him, he wanted to hex me there and then." Hermione tumbled back into her reverie, her eyes became distant as the only sound to be heard was the crackling of the fire.  
  
"Hermione?" Snape stirred her several minutes later. She looked up at him dully. "Please continue."  
  
Hermione lifted one shoulder in a half shrug.  
  
"What more do you need to know? My parents were killed a week after, even though I didn't need the excuse. My mind had already been made up, I had to leave! I couldn't stay here, not with him, not after mum and dad . . . Dumbledore arranged everything else, although he felt it all unnecessary, on the condition that I would never willingly return. I didn't expect any of this, and I never knew that my actions would lead to . . . such a mess."  
  
Strong hands rested either side of her face, fingers smoothing away the frown lines that wrinkled her forehead.  
  
"None of this is your fault," he spoke sternly, forcing her to listen to him. "You must not believe that you are to blame."  
  
"Of course I'm to blame!" Hermione's voice was shrill. "If I had told Harry the truth instead of pretending all those months he would never have thought . . . never have tried . . . maybe if I had done what he wanted he wouldn't be lying in the hospital wing dying!"  
  
Snape's hand closed abruptly over her mouth, silencing her.  
  
"No. Forcing yourself into a marriage that you do not believe in is no better than the way Harry is now. Do not live your life in accordance with the wishes of other people. Your self imposed exile proves nothing if you cannot forgive yourself for something you did when you were little more than a child."  
  
"But I did that to him! Me!" Hermione's voice was muffled by his hand, but insistent. Snape leaned into her, shaking his dark head with equal insistence.  
  
"No, Hermione. You did not." Removing his hand he rubbed her shoulders gently. "You made the right choice, whether you regret it or not. You were only children, you said yourself that you did not love him. That is no basis for a happy marriage."  
  
Hermione nodded mutely, knowing that what he said was true, yet still not daring to believe it.  
  
"You know you are here to help him, and if you can, consider your debt repaid hmm? It has been a long time. You may find that the adult Harry Potter is significantly different from the one you knew."  
  
"Perhaps," she conceded quietly. "But that remains to be seen, doesn't it?"  
  
"Yes, Hermione," he nodded, a little grimly. "It does."  
  
TBC 


	12. Chapter 12

A/N: An update, hopefully before this story was forgotten altogether! I didn't want to leave it forever unfinished, so I am going to make the effort to write the final few chapters, probably only 2 or 3 after this one, sometime within the next few weeks.  
  
I own nothing except the plot, all else belongs to JKR  
  
I hope you enjoy it, please review!  
  
***  
  
The next few days passed quickly for Hermione, and her initial fears about having nothing to do with her time were quickly banished by the hours she spent in the offices of various Professors, talking and drinking tea. The monotony of repeating the same story over and over again was lessened by the comfort she found that she could take from the presence of familiar faces. Dumbledore was an almost constant shadow, always near whether Hermione was aware of him or not. She spoke with him every day, every day growing a little in confidence, and testing out her rediscovered magical talents. Her confidence grew quickly then, she found enough humour in her situation to liken her affiliation with the magic to any kind of muggle addiction, but with less dramatic consequences. She had been a talented witch, Dumbledore told her, so there was no reason why she could not be so again.  
  
They did not speak about her ever leaving them again, even though Hermione had given it much consideration. She knew from her discussions with Snape that there would be very little for her to return for, and the danger such a return posed to her was not to be taken lightly. Her decision to remain, at least for the foreseeable future, seemed made for her, and Hermione could not resent it. When you were born a witch, she reasoned, you belonged.  
  
Having made up her mind, her first impulse was to seek out the one who had become her mentor of late. He had been incredibly elusive in the days since she had confessed all to him, and almost a week had passed during which she had only seen him at mealtimes, in the Great Hall, and never to speak to. Dumbledore, perceptive as always, had suggested that Severus was much happier closeted away in his dungeons than roaming around the countryside protecting a wayward witch. Hermione was not surprised at this; she knew enough of the man to understand his reclusiveness.  
  
It was after dinner on New Year's Eve when she left her rooms to find him, feeling a peculiar despair at the thought of spending another night reading alone. The staircases and hallways of the castle were deserted and silent as she made her way down to the dungeons, which were themselves forbiddingly dark. Her footsteps echoed unnervingly as she made her way to Snape's classroom, almost at a run. She was relieved to see a light shining from underneath the closed door; at least someone was down here!  
  
Pushing open the door, and wincing as it scraped loudly against the stone flags of the dungeon floor, Hermione stepped into the room with a boldness she did not feel. Snape stood with his back to her at one of the desks, robes shoved up his elbows despite the coldness of the room. He back straightened a little as she entered the room but he did not turn, instead continuing to stir the substance in the cauldron before him. Hermione stayed where she was, uncertain of her welcome, and it was only after a tense few moments that she heard Snape sigh impatiently.  
  
"Miss Granger, I require your assistance," he intoned silkily.  
  
Stepping over to where he stood, Hermione watched impassively as his clever hands chopped and stirred where necessary. He did not speak, and neither did she, as he silently handed her a pestle and mortar and a small quantity of dry asphodel root. Correctly recognizing that he was making a dreamless sleep potion, Hermione set about reducing the asphodel into a fine powder, and then handed it back so that he could tip it into the cauldron. Ten sirs clockwise later, Snape cast a critical eye over the contents and switched off the heat beneath the cauldron with an efficient 'click'.  
  
Dark eyes appraised her from close quarters.  
  
"How are you feeling?" He asked her carefully, eyes not leaving hers.  
  
"Fine. You may or may not be pleased to know that, at least for the meantime, I have decided to stay." Hermione managed a small smile and Snape gave a short nod.  
  
"It is for the best," he hesitated, and then reached out a hand to pat her gently on the shoulder. "Even if you do perhaps feel that it is otherwise."  
  
"I know," she whispered softly. "I know."  
  
Snape caught her downcast expression and lifted her chin with strong fingers.  
  
"You remaining does have...certain advantages," he murmured, stroking her cheek with gentle, precise strokes.  
  
Hermione felt her mouth go dry as he lowered his face to hers.  
  
"And they would be...?" She chanced the question already knowing the answer. Whatever it was that going on between herself and the Professor, she was loathe to put a stop to it, Dumbledore's warnings or no.  
  
"Come now Miss Granger," his words were almost velvety against her skin. "Do not tell me that a witch of your intellect cannot work out the answer to that question herself."  
  
She managed a smile at this, and he was just about to close the distance between them completely and kiss her when a small cough was heard from the direction of the classroom door.  
  
They split hurriedly apart seconds before Dumbledore himself walked into the room. If he sensed that there was something amiss between the two of them, his benign expression gave nothing away, and Hermione fought to control the telltale blush that stained her cheeks.  
  
"Ah Severus, and Miss Granger," Dumbledore addressed them both. "Finding you here together gives me the advantage of not speaking to each of you separately."  
  
"I was brewing a potion for the infirmary, Headmaster," Snape said hurriedly. "Herm – Miss Granger here was simply assisting me."  
  
Dumbledore's eyes, blue and sharp, swept over Hermione thoughtfully.  
  
"Indeed," he said softly. "Miss Granger, you may wish to take a seat. What I am about to tell you may come as something of a shock."  
  
Hermione slid into a seat behind one of the desks, Snape remained standing. Dumbledore's expression became almost grave, his face tightening a little, and Hermione felt a thrill of fear.  
  
"What is it, Professor? What's wrong?" Her voice worked of its' own volition, the questions were out of her mouth before she could stop them.  
  
"Hush child," Dumbledore soothed her quietly. "Nothing is yet lost, there is still time."  
  
"Time for what, Headmaster?" This time it was Snape who asked the question, and Hermione looked impatiently from one to the other.  
  
There was an extraordinarily long pause.  
  
"Hermione," Dumbledore addressed her directly. "I am afraid that there has been a slight change of plan regarding how you must help Harry." Hermione's eyebrows rose, and out of the corner of her eye she saw Snape make a peculiar jerking movement towards her. Snapping her attention back to the Headmaster, she nodded her head a little to show that she understood.  
  
"What is it?" She repeated.  
  
"You must wake him tonight," Dumbledore said simply.  
  
Hermione gave a little start, coming to her feet before she was aware of the impulse to do so.  
  
"Is it Voldemort, is Harry in danger?" Her voice was much calmer than she felt it should be. Dumbledore shook his head.  
  
"No. But yes, Harry is in danger. I fear that if we leave things much longer that the damage will be irreversible."  
  
"He's dying?" She covered her mouth with her hand. Dumbledore studied her silently for a moment.  
  
"I cannot lie to you, Miss Granger. We fear...we fear that he may not last the night without intervention."  
  
Hermione threw him, and then Snape, a horrified look and then let her feet take her from the room as quickly as they would carry her. She was dimly aware of their attempts to call her back, and then hurried footsteps behind her, but paid no attention to either, breaking into a run for the stairs.  
  
Darting across the entrance hall and then up another flight of stairs, Hermione had burst through the closed doors of the infirmary before her thoughts had the change to catch up with her feet. What she was feeling went beyond fear; she was terrified. Marching down to the screens that she knew Harry was being kept behind, she felt grim satisfaction in Poppy Pomfrey's astonished expression, but brushed past her and stared down at where Harry lay upon the bed.  
  
Dumbledore, it seemed, had not been exaggerating when he had suggested that Harry was near death; he looked terrible, much worse than any of the other nights Hermione had been to visit him. His skin was pale and sweating, his expression a frightening grimace. He was thrashing upon the bed, struggling against the bonds which sought to hold him still as if within the grip of a terrible nightmare. Hermione reached out to touch him, and hesitated, realizing that touching him would achieve nothing.  
  
A clattering of footsteps announced the arrival of Snape and Dumbledore, both wearing expressions of concern. Hermione turned to them helplessly before looking back at Harry.  
  
"Please, Professor Dumbledore. Please don't let him die!" She was pleading with him when she knew that he did not hold the solution to the problem. "I know what it is that I must do, Professor Snape told me a week ago. Let me help him, please!"  
  
Tears welled in her eyes and she brushed them angrily away. Dumbledore looked uncertain, but Hermione knew that he would not refuse her offer. Over his shoulder, Snape had paled, and was looking at her anxiously.  
  
"Hermione," he stepped in front of Dumbledore and grasped her hands in both of his. "Hermione, I do not know if you are ready for this...and once we begin I cannot protect you if something goes wrong." His gaze was intense, Hermione felt herself almost painfully drawn to him. She squeezed his hands in what she hoped was a reassuring manner.  
  
"I am ready. And nothing will go wrong," she whispered to him. "I'll bring us both back safely, I promise."  
  
Snape lifted a hand, touched her cheek once and then drew silently away. Hermione closed her eyes briefly and then reopened them with renewed resolve, staring directly at Dumbledore.  
  
"If you are ready then, if you are prepared." It was not lost on her that she had heard these words before, spoken to another. Wordlessly, she nodded.  
  
"Then we will begin," Snape's voice floated to her as if from far away, "whilst there is still time."  
  
TBC 


	13. Chapter 13

Hermione looked slowly from Harry to Dumbledore, hesitated, and then let her eyes drift over to Snape. He was studying her with an intensity that suddenly left her struggling for breath, and in a moment of startling clarity, she understood why.  
  
"Professor Snape..." Her voice caught a little, but she pressed on regardless. "May I speak with you before we proceed?"  
  
If Dumbledore was surprised by this he did not show it. Snape merely nodded, his expression grim. There was a short pause, not without confusion.  
  
"In private?" Hermione ventured cautiously.  
  
Snape stared at her wordlessly and then turned and swept from the room. Glancing at a seemingly benign Dumbledore, Hermione followed him.  
  
Exiting the infirmary, she pulled the double doors closed behind her and was immediately seized by the shoulders and shoved bodily backwards into the wall. There was no surprise, no hesitation, when Snape kissed her, using the wall and his height to pull her boldly against him. His mouth was hungry against hers, and with a half-sob Hermione found herself responding to him, kissing him back with a ferocity borne of desperation, feeling something slip away from her as she did so.  
  
His hands traced the curve of her waist, tugging her so close that she could feel where their bodies were in contact from shoulder to knee, and Hermione welcomed it. This was not an embrace to offer comfort, or even protection, but one of need and desire. It ignited something in Hermione that she did not know that she possessed, and something in Severus that he had long thought dead. When he finally broke the kiss they were both breathless.  
  
Eyes dark with want observed each other at close quarters, and his hands moved from her waist to cup her face, Hermione's warm cheeks against his cool palms. She pressed her forehead against his and closed her eyes.  
  
"I wish..." His voice was like she had never heard it, low and husky and filled with a bittersweet sadness that she herself felt only too well. "I wish that we had more time!"  
  
Hermione opened her eyes and found the courage to close the small gap between them and kiss him gently. Anguish radiated out from them, and she felt herself begin to tremble.  
  
"I'll come back," she whispered the words brokenly against his lips as he crushed her slender form against his. "I promise."  
  
Pulling away with a strength that she did not know she had, she looked up at his face, seeing the fear and confusion etched there. Lifting herself onto tiptoes and smoothing the frown lines from his forehead with shaking fingers, she struggled for the words with which to reassure him.  
  
"I will come back for you."  
  
He stared at her. There were tears in her eyes, but there was also hope. She squeezed his shoulder, managed a sad smile even as the tears began to fall.  
  
"I _came_ back for you. Back to this world, back to this castle. For you. I didn't understand at first. I do now. Please tell me..." her voice wavered, almost breaking. "Please tell me that I made the right decision?"  
  
He hugged her close, soothing her.  
  
"You are an extraordinary young woman," he whispered fiercely into her hair. "I would not lose you again, to any one or any thing, even if my life depended upon it."  
  
He held her an instant longer within the circle of his arms before releasing her and wiping her tears away with his thumbs. Feeling small calluses against her skin, Hermione again felt the intensity of her need for him.  
  
"There was a woman, a long time ago, much like you," Snape sighed, his eyes solemn but distant, as if recalling a memory long consigned to a place he did not like to visit. "And I loved her. She was so full of life...so vibrant, and I...well I was not." His expression changed, became slightly rueful. "I never managed to tell her how I felt about her, there was never a time, never a place..." He trailed off, eyes snapping back to hers.  
  
"What happened?" Hermione felt compelled to ask; her heart was beating very loudly against her ribcage.  
  
Snape hesitated, and was silent for so long that she thought that he would refuse to answer her.  
  
"She died." He said softly. "And I could not prevent it, when I would have given anything to do so."  
  
"I'm not going to die," Hermione tried to reassure him.  
  
"I care for you, Hermione, and I would not let history repeat itself, not like this!"  
  
"I will come back," she repeated stubbornly.  
  
"What if you do not have a choice? What if the sacrifice that is required of you is your death? What if you are asked to change places with him? What will you do then? What will I do if you cannot come back?" He was suddenly angry, his pale face flushed and taut.  
  
"I won't have to do any of those things, will I?" Hermione replied in horrified astonishment.  
  
His silence in response was almost damning.  
  
"_Will I_?" She repeated. He looked at her stonily, then shrugged.  
  
"I...do not know. Any of those things are possible."  
  
"Then what am I supposed to do?" She found herself angry now. The taste of deception was again bitter in her mouth. "Walk away? Give up? Let him die?"  
  
"There is always a choice," Snape would not look at her.  
  
"_There is no choice_! Don't you see, don't you understand? I will do what I have been asked to do – what I must do! This is my debt, this is how I must pay for what I did to him!" Hermione's voice was desperate, pleading, but his face remained unmoved. He would not have her do this, she realized, he wanted to keep her safe, and it was impossible!  
  
"He would not ask you to die for him, whatever you perceive your crimes as," He bit back tonelessly.  
  
"I am not going to die!" Hermione shouted at him, furious with him that he would even think of her giving up.  
  
There seemed nothing more to say.  
  
His eyes were now fixed on the infirmary doors. Hermione followed them. Time was drawing short, she knew. If they were going to act, it had to be soon.  
  
"Severus...this is not goodbye." She linked an unwilling hand with one of hers, whispering his name.  
  
"Hermione..." He closed his eyes, seemingly with no other response to give, squeezed her hand, and drew her close one last time.  
  
When he let her go, and turned resolutely back to the infirmary doors, there were tears in his eyes. Not letting her see them, he strode back into the ward, and Hermione followed him. Dumbledore, and now Poppy Pomfrey, looked from one to the other with what Hermione could only describe as anticipation in their eyes. Behind them, in the narrow hospital bed, Harry stirred anew.  
  
Forcing herself to look away from Snape's angrily straight back, Hermione slowly made her way to her sometime friend's side. Sitting on the edge of the bed she leaned forward and brushed his overlong dark hair away from his eyes, her fingertips brushing the scar on his forehead as she did so. Harry gave a little gasp and twisted violently against the bonds that were keeping him on the bed, and Hermione removed her hand.  
  
Twisting slightly and looking over her shoulder, she met Dumbledore's now sober blue eyes with her own. She breathed deeply a few times, and then gathered herself a little, looking around at all of the people standing around her.  
  
"I am ready," she whispered softly.  
  
Severus, his eyes unreadable, stepped forward, wand lifted.  
  
The last thing Hermione remembered as he said the words of the spell that would send her to meet Harry, was the look on his face.  
  
She had never seen him looking so frightened before.  
  
TBC....  
  
A/N: Not mine never was, please don't sue me.  
  
Thanks for all of your kind reviews, hopefully a couple more updates will see this story completed! I'm working on a few new ideas, mostly one shots, and will be posting something new soon.  
  
Please support my low self esteem and review! 


	14. Chapter 14

Hermione awoke to find herself lying on a cold hard floor in complete darkness. For a moment she managed to forget where she was, and what she was doing, and fear made it suddenly difficult for her to breathe. Closing her eyes, she struggled with memories of Harry lying on the hospital bed, of Dumbledore's grave face, and finally of Severus Snape kissing her outside the infirmary. Eyes flying open, but seeing nothing, she remembered why she was where she was and what she had been there sent to do.  
  
'_I am only an extension of my mind_,' she reminded herself carefully. '_And I am somewhere inside Harry's subconscious!_'  
  
Gingerly, she climbed to her feet and reached out her hands to pat down her body, observing as she did so that she felt real enough, and at least corporeal. Relief flooded through her as her search revealed her wand in the inside pocket of her robes, and she extracted it with trembling fingers.  
  
"_Lumos_," she whispered, and was rewarded with a narrow band of light, enough to illuminate her surroundings. She squinted a little and was at last able to discern that she was standing in a long tunnel, neither at the beginning or the end, as it stretched away for an unknown and seemingly endless distance in both directions.  
  
"Harry?" Her low call echoed back to her from deep silence all about, and Hermione hesitated, looking first one way and then the other. She was about to begin walking to her left when she saw the winking light way off to her right. Frowning, and certain that she would have spotted it before if it had been there to spot, she started towards it, flicking her wand left and right before her, making sure that the tunnel floor contained no potholes or obstacles that could injure her.  
  
She seemed to walk for a long time, and was growing uncomfortably cold as the tunnel stretched before her. The light continued to blink this way and that, almost like a mirror reflecting sunlight on a hot summers' day, but did not seen to increase in size as Hermione continued in what she hoped was towards it. She was beginning to give up hope of ever reaching it when the tunnel abruptly lightened all around her and she found herself standing what appeared to be a cave.  
  
Wondering if she was dreaming, but knowing that she was not, Hermione spotted a tiny disc halfway up one wall towards the ceiling. On closer inspection, it appeared to be letting the light into the cave. It was the light she had seen distantly glinting at her, what seemed like hours ago. Wondering what it was, and more specifically what it was doing in Harry's mind, Hermione stared up at it for a moment before casting her gaze around the cave itself.  
  
It was completely empty, and bore no signs of human habitation, but there was a small round opening recessed into the floor at its centre. Hermione approached it cautiously, before realising that it was a well.  
  
_A well? In the middle of a cave?_  
  
She peered into the murky depths, and was considering dropping a stone down into them to see if it really was a well when the pale face materialised from out of the dark and what she supposed was the bottom.  
  
The face was dirty and careworn, thin and surrounded by hair that was far too long. It wore an expression of surprise that Hermione rather thought was matched by her own. Of all of the places in the world that she had expected to find Harry Potter, the bottom of a well in the middle of a cave at the end of a tunnel was the last!  
  
"Harry?" She ventured cautiously, and when he did not respond. "Harry, can you hear me?"  
  
There was an extraordinarily long pause while they stared at each other.  
  
"Hermione?" When he spoke, Harry's voice was croaky and low as though it had not been used in some time. "Hermione? Is that really you?"  
  
Smiling, she nodded, chancing a little more light to illuminate her face and noticing at the same time that there were rungs embedded in the side of the well, leading down to where Harry now sat.  
  
"Of course, it might not be you," Harry muttered almost to himself. "They've sent others you know, who told me that they were you, that they'd come to rescue me, but they were all pretending." His brow furrowed, he looked confusedly up at her again. "How do I know that it's really you, Hermione?" He asked loudly.  
  
"Who else would I be?" She asked him softly. "Can you climb up the ladder, Harry? I want to speak to you."  
  
He climbed slowly to his feet, she could see that he was painfully thin, and her heart went out to him. Trapped in a place like this, was it really any surprise?  
  
"Funny," he said as he climbed towards her. "I don't remember there being a ladder there before."  
  
Hermione waited until his head and shoulders were above the level of the well before hauling him out onto the stone floor beside her. Harry looked around the cave with interest.  
  
"I remember this place," he said. "But it used to be much bigger, and where that bit of light is, up there, used to fill the whole room. But then it started to change, it got dark...and cold," He met Hermione's eyes, and sighed. "I felt safe until then." A frown. "I don't feel safe now."  
  
"Harry." Hermione placed her hand on his arm, feeling that he was cold through thin material of the raggedy robes that he was wearing. "Harry, I've come to take you back out again, back to Hogwarts. Do you know the way?"  
  
"You left me," he said thoughtfully, reaching out a hand to stroke her cheek. Hermione tried not to wince. "You left when I asked you to – to..." He suddenly looked quite distressed. "What happened, Hermione, where did you go? I missed you."  
  
"I'm truly sorry, Harry, really I am," She could not prevent the tears that pooled in her eyes with the bittersweet memories. "I never meant to hurt you, not like this!"  
  
"Where did you go?" He repeated, green eyes intense upon her face.  
  
"I became a muggle again...until very recently. Someone...persuaded me to return to Hogwarts, to see you." At the thought of Snape, her heart twisted slightly. "They said...they said that I was the only one who could rescue you, from this place. Is that true, Harry?"  
  
"Who made you come back, was it Dumbledore?" Harry wanted to know. Hermione would not lie to him.  
  
"No, Harry. It was Snape...Professor Snape, who made me return." She could not look him in the eye and speak of this, she discovered.  
  
"But why?"  
  
"I don't know," she said quickly. Too quickly.  
  
"Why, Hermione?" Harry's voice had suddenly become hard, his face was grim.  
  
"Because I think I'm in love with him." There! She'd said it.  
  
"You don't love me?" His face fell, and Hermione felt a rush of protective feelings towards him. Leaning forward, she embraced him in a gentle hug, trying desperately to reassure him.  
  
"I do love you, Harry, as much as anyone can love a friend. Please believe me."  
  
Tentatively, she felt him hug her back.  
  
"I do believe you," He mumbled into her shoulder. "It's just that...I wish that...I've been here so long, I was beginning to think that you were never going to come!"  
  
"Oh Harry! I'm so sorry, but I'm here now! Please come back with me? Please...just come home!"  
  
He drew back slightly; she could see the tracks of his tears on his dirty face.  
  
"You won't leave again, will you? Promise me, Hermione? I need you to be with me, by my side so I can finish this thing once and for all!" His face was earnest. "If you promise to stay, I'll come back with you now."  
  
Hermione stared at him. What he was asking of her was something that had seemed impossible not one month ago, but now...her time spent back in the castle, with the magic and most of all with Snape had changed her mind almost completely. She did not want to go back, she realised suddenly, even if there was anything to go back for. What was the point of a sad lonely life when she could be happy, truly happy, with her friends in the place that she had once thought of as home? This was what she had been born to do. She was a witch, and it was time for her exile to be left behind once and for all!  
  
"Yes, Harry," she brought her attention back to her old friend. "I'll stay. I'll stay forever." She was thinking of Snape as she said this, thinking of what a life with him might be like. Her heart hammered against her ribcage. Together, they climbed to their feet and stood facing the tiny spot of light halfway up the wall.  
  
"Before we go," Harry murmured into her ear, "Can I ask you a question?"  
  
He linked hands with her.  
  
"Of course. Ask anything you like."  
  
"Does he love you too?"  
  
She hesitated.  
  
"I really don't know," she said softly. "I haven't had the chance to speak to him about it, but Harry he's changed so much! He's nothing like I remember him at school, he's softer somehow, and protective. If it wasn't for him, I wouldn't be standing with you now."  
  
Harry managed a small smile, a smile she recognised as being one of acceptance.  
  
"He should be worthy of you, you know," he said. "I wouldn't have let you go to just anyone."  
  
"He is worthy, I promise," Hermione tightened her grip on his hand, wondering as she did so what Snape really thought of her. They shared a special bond, that much she knew, forged in adversity when he was trying to get her to leave her cottage. She was equally sure that she did not imagine the way that he looked at her, the fear in his eyes that she might not return when he sent her here. Hermione was filled with hope, and she smiled suddenly.  
  
"Are you ready to go home?" She asked Harry. Looking slightly apprehensive, he squeezed her hand and nodded.  
  
"I'll be there, Harry. I promise."  
  
Hermione watched as the circle of light began to widen, and glancing at the look of concentration upon Harry's face, she at last began to understand what it was he was doing. The light expanded quickly until it was almost filling the entire wall of the cave, and squinting, she could make out the infirmary, and those standing around the bed where she knew the real Harry was lying. The light was taking the form of a gateway, she realised, and all they needed to do was step through it. Harry would be woken! Hermione took a deep breath.  
  
Stepping forward with Harry, she was briefly surprised that instead of stepping into the light everything went dark, but then she abruptly knew no more as her consciousness slid quickly away and the darkness once more rose up to meet her...  
  
TBC...  
  
A/N: Don't own it, never will, although I doubt JKR would want to claim ownership of this particular chapter somehow!  
  
This is the penultimate chapter. As soon as I get the time to write it, the final chapter will be posted. I'm not sure how this is going to end, but as you can tell, something is not quite right with Hermione's return to consciousness. She will, however, be having a reunion with Snape (eventually) – promise! 


	15. Chapter 15

Hermione came awake again with a start, jolting back into (what she assumed was) the real world and finding herself sitting bolt upright in a bed that she had most definitely not been occupying when she had been sent to rescue Harry.  
  
Her eyes seemed to take an age to adjust to the bright sunlight that filled the room, dominated by a series of high, arched windows all along one wall. It was when her sluggish brain finally kicked in and told her that the sunlight was far too bright, far too warm for midwinter that she realised that something was indeed very wrong.  
  
Cautiously settling herself back amongst the pillows, Hermione surveyed her surroundings, eyes flitting from the bookshelves filled to bursting point with books to the shiny dark wood that constituted the floor and closed door to the empty chair at the side of her bed, slightly squashed cushions revealing that it had, at least until recently, been occupied.  
  
Everything about the room was strangely familiar, and yet no so. Hermione was reasonably sure that she had never been there before, but there was something, her brain niggled her incessantly; she knew this place from somewhere...  
  
Raising a hand to run it through her curls, she was more than a little surprised to discover that her hair had been cut savagely short, ending just above her shoulders, and was very tangled. She looked down at the old- fashioned cotton lawn nightshirt she was wearing, and her confusion deepened, but was tempered with a curious acceptance that she had not experienced before. True, she did not know where she was, or how long she had been there, but she at least appeared well cared for, and not in any apparent danger.  
  
The room was warm, and while Hermione was weak for reasons that she did not know, she contented herself by lying still, feeling increasingly sleepy whilst still cocooned within heavy blankets. Her eyes were drifting closed again, and she was on the verge of slipping into sleep when sudden loud footsteps announced the arrival of someone outside the door to the room where she presently lay.  
  
For reasons that she did not understand, Hermione turned her face away from the door and screwed her eyes shut, forcing her suddenly quick breathing into something that might pass for the even breaths of sleep. She heard the creak of the door opening, and then being closed behind whoever had entered the room. The footsteps, decidedly softer now, drew close, and with a rustling of robes abruptly ceased as her visitor settled themselves in the chair next to the bed. She tried not to stiffen when a hand brushed her new, short, curls away from her face, and was further surprised when the hand brushed her cheek before pressing a little more insistently against her forehead.  
  
"Still too hot," a voice muttered quietly, a voice Hermione was sure she would have known anywhere.  
  
Abandoning all pretence of sleep, she rolled over towards the voice and met a pair of astonished black eyes with her own brown ones.  
  
Severus Snape was looking at her as if she were a ghost, Hermione thought hazily to herself. His eyes were wide, and his mouth half open in apparent shock. He reached out as if to touch her, and then thinking better of it, withdrew, staring at her all the while. Silence deepened between them and Hermione was the first to break it.  
  
"Severus..." she breathed, finding her voice hoarse and husky as if from disuse. "Oh Severus..!"  
  
Sure that she had never been so pleased to see anyone in her life, she fairly flung herself into his arms, relief singing in her soul when she felt him hug her back, familiar arms pulling her close, hands rubbing gently up and down her spine. He buried his head in her shoulder, she felt him place a gentle kiss in the hollow formed by her collarbone and then he was pulling back to look down at her, his eyes full of emotions that she could not read.  
  
It all came back to her then, in a shocking flash of clarity. Stepping through the gateway with Harry, and finding everything to be dark instead of the light she had expected, sliding into unconsciousness, and then...nothing. Hermione frowned at this. No more memories would come. She looked up at Severus, her eyes troubled.  
  
"How long..." she croaked at him. "_How_ _long...?_"  
  
He appeared to bite his lip in order to prevent some emotion or other seeping out, and then shook his head, face clearing a little. His hands moved to grasp her shoulders firmly.  
  
"Nearly three months," he said heavily. Hermione gave a little cry of disbelief.  
  
"But how..."  
  
"We do not know," he was shaking his head again. "Harry woke up, you did not. We thought at first that you had offered to take Harry's place, but he assured us that you had not. You did not react in the same ways that he did, in any effect. It was almost as though you were sleeping; sleeping though nothing would wake you..."  
  
He hugged her again, squeezing her almost painfully close, and this time it was Hermione who chose to bury her face in his robes, inhaling his sandalwood scent as she did so, feeling herself begin to tremble as her head began to spin.  
  
"It is all right," Snape reassured her softly, a gentle voice in her ear. "You are all right."  
  
"I don't remember anything!" She spoke into his chest, feeling his steady heartbeat against her cheek. "One minute I was coming back with Harry and the next...it was so dark! And then, almost as if no time had passed at all, I woke up here!"  
  
She lifted her head, staring at him wide-eyed.  
  
"Harry...what happened to Harry?"  
  
To her surprise, Snape smiled, his face instantly losing some of it's' age, becoming almost handsome. "Harry is in Canada, with Ronald Weasley. He is...recuperating."  
  
"Recuperating from what?" A terrible suspicion was beginning to dawn in Hermione's mind. Three months. What could have happened in three months? Before Snape had the change to reply, she found her voice again. "I missed it, didn't I? Harry...and V-V-Voldemort?"  
  
"You did," he nodded. "Less than a month ago," his face darkened. "It was...unpleasant. But yes, Harry has fulfilled the prophecy. The shadow has been lifted."  
  
"Did you...?"  
  
It almost seemed to Hermione that he could read her mind.  
  
"I was there, at the end. I saw it all." Absently, he curled a strand of her hair around his finger. "I told you about it..." His breathing became very uneven; he closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose between thumb and forefinger. "Of course, you didn't hear me...you couldn't hear me..."  
  
Hermione saw the pain written all over his face, understood why it had to be so. She had promised him, told him that she would be coming back, that she wasn't going to die, and then she had let him down so spectacularly, through no fault of her own.  
  
"Severus...I'm no sorry...I didn't know, there was no way of knowing that this would happen!"  
  
"You misunderstand me," Snape said quietly, moving his face very close her hers. "It was unpleasant, yes, but I was all the more determined knowing that you were safe from it! Poppy had assured me that there was no lasting damage to be had in letting you sleep, that you would wake eventually, when you were ready. We moved you from the infirmary to here, to my house..." Hermione then knew why everything seemed so familiar. "I wanted to watch you, to be there when you woke up," he dropped a kiss on her forehead, and sighed. "It is all over, and I am glad. My life is my own again."  
  
"And so is mine." She smiled up at him, and was rewarded when a pair of arms scooped her up from out of the bed, blankets and all, and deposited her in his lap. Curling his arms around her, he tucked her head under his chin, smoothing away her curls when they tickled his nose.  
  
"And what will you do with it, Hermione? Will you leave us again? Go back to your cottage, to you old life?"  
  
_My old life_, Hermione thought. So much had happened, it really had become old. She shook her head into his shoulder.  
  
"No. I made someone a promise, a promise to not leave again. I intend to honour that promise."  
  
"Mr Potter is more astute than he looks." Snape chuckled. "He said something to me, before he went to Canada, something that I did not understand."  
  
"Oh?"  
  
"Yes. He said 'be worthy of her', and with such intent in his eyes. Do you know what he meant, Hermione?"  
  
Hermione lifted her head and stared at him for long moments. He watched her questioningly for a time before leaning down into her kiss. Silence blanketed the room until they separated, breathlessly.  
  
"I do know what he meant, yes," Hermione knew she was blushing, and could not help it. "I told Harry how I felt about you," she said simply. "And he was concerned that you did not deserve my...love."  
  
"Love?" Snape echoed quietly. "Are you saying that you..."  
  
"Yes. At least, I think so." She saw the consternation on his face and hesitated. "Is that all right, Severus, do you mind?"  
  
He smiled a little, shook his head.  
  
"I do not mind. I find myself surprised. After all, what reasons have I given for you to love me?"  
  
Hermione's eyes brimmed with sudden tears.  
  
"So many," she whispered. "You rescued me, you pushed me forward, you held me up, you comforted and counselled me...how many more do I need?"  
  
He shushed her tenderly with a kiss, bumping his forehead affectionately against hers.  
  
"No more. Many more than I deserve." He found her hand amongst the blankets, held it in both of his. "You make me feel, Hermione. I could say that I love you, but that in itself would not be enough. I came to find you a broken man, a man with no hope and no future. You make me feel restored; you have given me both my hope and future back."  
  
"Severus..." she whispered softly. Their future, together, was laid out before them. All they had to do was reach out and touch it for it to begin. He was looking at her knowingly, and unless she was very much mistaken, happily.  
  
"Hermione..." he whispered back.  
  
They sat quietly together then, basking in the warm sunshine of a brave new world. Planning, with gentle looks and soft words, the future that they would share together.  
  
THE END  
  
A/N: Finished, yay! Thanks to everyone who has followed this story, I really hope the ending hasn't disappointed. For me, it felt just about right, and I'm quite happy with it.  
  
Look for some one-shots from me very soon – I have several in the pipeline, or read some of my other, shorter stories (they're all SS/HG, it's a groove I can't seem to get myself out of!)  
  
Cheers again,  
  
Winter Solstice. 


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